


I'm Goin' Back...

by DonnieTheFu



Series: Little Freddie [10]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Comedy, Corporal Punishment, Crack Treated Seriously, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Drama, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Feels, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Explicit Sex, Punishment, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, Sex Education, Smoking, Spanking, Time Loop, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:33:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21620254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonnieTheFu/pseuds/DonnieTheFu
Summary: It's the year 2017. After years of trying and hard work, John Deacon and Dr. Brian May have finally made their dreams of a time machine a reality. Now the two of them, along with Roger, Little Freddie & The Sons of Queen (Felix Taylor, Jimmy May, & Robert Deacon), and the actors from the Bohemian Rhapsody movie - Rami, Ben, Gwilym, and Joe, have all come together and decided to go back in time to try and save Freddie.They are met with some unexpected, and at times comical, mishaps along the way and begin to wonder - will they ever be able to get Freddie past that fateful day of November 24, 1991, the day of his death?
Relationships: Anita Dobson/Brian May, Ben Hardy & Gwilym Lee & Rami Malek & Joe Mazzello, Brian May/Chrissie Mullen, Dominique Beyrand/Roger Taylor, Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury, John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Veronica Tetzlaff, Lucy Boynton/Rami Malek, Mary Austin/Freddie Mercury, Sarina Potgieter/Roger Taylor
Series: Little Freddie [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526273
Comments: 25
Kudos: 47





	1. It's Alive!!!

**Author's Note:**

> I would really appreciate no criticism (constructive or otherwise), or negativity in the comments section, please. This is just my hobby that I do for fun. Thank you! :)
> 
> Copyright © May 20, 2020 DonnieTheFu All Rights Reserved
> 
> ***DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any semblance between original characters and real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The author in no way represents the companies, corporations, or brands mentioned in this work. The likeness of historical/famous figures have been used fictitiously; the author does not speak for or represent these people. All opinions expressed in this work are the author’s, or fictional.***

The wind howled, the lightning flashed, the thunder crashed, the rain came pelting down, and from a certain garage in Putney in London, England, a bright blue light was emitted, like that of an acetylene welding torch. John Deacon shut off the flame, and lifting up his face shield, he stepped back to admire his creation.

"It's alive!!!" He proclaimed, a look of madness on his face.

"Well, technically, it's not _alive_ , per se."

Everyone in the room turned to stare at the man who had spoken, Dr. Brian May.

"I mean, yes, it is a very sophisticated piece of advanced technology. But alive? Eh…" he shrugged his shoulders. "In order for it to be considered alive it would need to display the seven characteristics of life-" he began, ready to launch into an extensive, detailed scientific explanation. "-responsiveness to the environment; growth and change; ability to-" he started ticking them off on his fingers, but then stopped realizing he was ruining the moment.

"Anyway…" Roger said. "What does this thing do exactly?"

"Well, to put it simply-"

"Yes, please!" Roger interjected. Brian shot him a look.

"It's a time machine. A project John and I have been working on together ever since Freddie...passed away...Only the technology to make it work hasn't existed until now." The machine itself had a relatively simple design. It appeared to be a large, thick metal vault with room inside for seven people, standing room only. The door closed securely, locking from the inside. And to the right of the door, was a key pad for punching in the coordinates, as well as the date and time of day to which one wished to travel.

"Right. Perhaps we'd better go over a few things first," Brian said to the others assembled there: Roger; John; The Sons of Queen - Little Freddie, Felix, Jimmy, and Robert; and the actors playing their counterparts in the new biopic movie that was in production, _Bohemian Rhapsody_ \- Rami, Ben, Gwilym, and Joe. They'd all grown close to the actors during filming, and now considered them a part of the family. And when Brian and John had let them in on their little secret, right away they'd agreed to help in any way they could.

"First thing," Brian continued, "a lot of people think Freddie may have contracted HIV on his first visit to New York in 1974, so we'll be traveling back in time to April 3, 1974, roughly two weeks before their first tour of America began. Second thing, two versions of the same person can't exist at the same moment in time, so Roger, John, and I will be transported back into our original bodies, wherever they happen to be at the time, but luckily we will retain all of our memories from the present moment, so we'll still be aware of what's going on, and able to help out with the plan. And that's also why, Freddie, you and The Sons of Queen, will, unfortunately, have to stay here behind. Otherwise, if you were to travel back in time along with the rest of us, you would end up back in your bodies as children, since you were all babies at the time, and that would be no help to us whatsoever. And since the rest of you hadn't yet been born at the time, you will remain as your current selves, and you should all appear along with the time machine, in the basement of Rocket Records, which is where band manager, John Reid, has the offices for his management company, on the first floor."

"Now, I'm sure all of you have the plan memorized by now," Brian went on. "Rami, Ben, Gwilym, Joe, since the four of you are highly-trained, skilled actors and can pull it off, you are to go to John Reid, and pretend to be doctors hired by one of EMI's insurance companies, to give a mandatory sex education class to the band and crew, in order to validate the policies which cover the tour. No class, no tour. The insurance company wouldn't want any of the band to contract any sort of, ahem, _social disease_ , and be unable to perform, costing the insurance company possibly millions of dollars. Roger, John, and I will wait for the call from John Reid, and meet you all at the class, hopefully with Freddie in tow. Now, any questions? Everyone got everything they need? Good."

Brian put on his glasses and took a piece of paper in his hand. "Right. Now as far as John and I can tell, the possible side effects to time travel include, but are not limited to: severe blisters and peeling skin; blisters around the mouth; red, painful palms and feet; shooting pain, numbness and tingling; loss of smell; a painful, permanent erection; unusual urges for sex and gambling; nightmares and vivid dreams; wanting to crawl out of your skin; and nails falling off." Brian took off his glasses then, and smiled at them all. He was met by a stunned silence. Finally Joe spoke up:

"Did he just say all our nails might fall off?"

"You're worried about your nails falling off?!" Ben turned to him. "I'm still hung up on the painful, permanent erection, mate!"

"The point is, lads, it's very dangerous," Roger said to them. "So if anyone wants to back out, now would be the time." But everyone stayed where they were, faces hard, determined. Then Roger turned to Little Freddie.

"You sure you're alright with this, Freddie?" The ethics and concerns of this thing had been talked and discussed _ad nauseam_ between them at this point, but they'd all agreed the final decision would be left up to Little Freddie, it being his father after all. Little Freddie had spent many a sleepless night thinking on all these things. But in the end there had only been one decision. He knew his father was safe, happy, and finally at peace and rest where he was now. But if he were to be given a second chance at life, would he take it? Little Freddie had finally come to the decision, that yes, he would. He'd jump at the chance and not think twice. So he'd given his blessing and agreed to go along with this little project, which had now finally been made a reality. He snapped back to himself suddenly, and realized everyone was staring at him, waiting for an answer.

"Yes, I'm sure," he told them all. "And as my father would say, Alright, my darlings-" He knocked back a large vodka tonic he'd poured for himself. "Let's do it!"

Everyone smiled. They all shook hands with Little Freddie & The Sons of Queen, who wished them good luck. Then, Brian opened the door to the time machine, and everybody got in, Ben carrying a large gray duffel bag, which contained the doctor disguises and everything else they might require for this particular operation. After making sure the door was securely closed and locked, Brian punched the information into the keypad.

"I say we get there early, around 9:00 A.M., just when Rocket Records and John Reid's management company offices are opening up for business hours, so that way we'll have more time to get everything arranged and put into action," Brian said, and everyone agreed that seemed like a good idea. Brian's finger hovered over the ENTER button. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, then pressed it. A red light lit up, indicating they were in transit. There was a low humming, whirring sound and the machine began to vibrate slightly, like a bus going too fast down a bumpy road, or an aeroplane met with a bit of turbulence. They smiled at each other nervously, then suddenly all the lights went out, and there was some high pitched screaming then, higher than Roger's best falsetto. Then, all at once everything stopped, and all was still. The red light had turned to a green one now, indicating they had arrived at their destination. When the lights came back up, Brian, Roger, and John had disappeared. The others all took stock, and it seemed that everyone was alright - all nails and cocks were intact and accounted for, and no one seemed to have suffered any ill effects...at least not yet anyway. Rami, being closest to the door, reached out and rested his hand on the door handle, and then opened the door...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to the song Goin' Back, which is where I got the title for this story from: https://youtu.be/68p5xYBCVzA. It was released by Freddie Mercury under the name Larry Lurex. I think it's a very beautiful song, and whoever made the video did a wonderful job putting lots of pictures of Freddie from when he was growing up.


	2. Sex Ed 101

“Hand me the torch (flashlight),” Rami said. Ben rummaged around in the duffel bag and handed him the torch. He clicked it on and carefully surveyed their surroundings. They did indeed appear to be in the large concrete basement area of a building.

“Right. I think perhaps we’d better get changed in here.” Their costumes consisted of a long white lab coat with a fountain pen in the pocket and falsified name badge attached, glasses to perch on the ends of their noses, stethoscopes to hang around their necks, a button-down shirt with tie, black trousers, black shiny shoes, and a clipboard with some official looking papers.

“Alright, everyone ready?” Rami asked once they’d all gotten dressed in their new outfits. Everyone nodded their heads. “Let’s go.” They shut the door to the time machine, and from the duffel bag they pulled out a dusty tarpaulin, which they’d brought with them from John’s garage. This they threw over the time machine, and affixed a handwritten sign that read **DO NOT TOUCH** in big bold letters. Afterwards, they crept up the stairs, bringing the duffel bag with them, and then ever so slightly cracked open the basement door. First making sure no one was about, they slipped out into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind them. They made their way over to the secretary’s desk, and then Rami took charge.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he greeted her, cordially. “We’ve been sent by EMI’s insurance company. Here to see Mr. John Reid.” He handed her a fake business card. She took the card from him, and then rang through to Mr. Reid’s office.

“So sorry to disturb you, Mr. Reid, sir, but there are some men here who say they’ve been sent from EMI’s insurance company. Here to see you, sir.” She listened for a moment. “Alright. Yes, sir.” And then hung up the phone. “He’ll be with you in just a moment,” she told Rami and the others. Shortly Mr. Reid emerged from his office. He came over and shook them all warmly by the hand. 

“Good morning, gentlemen. Mr. John Reid at your service,” he said. “What can I do for you gentlemen? I’m afraid I wasn’t quite expecting your visit this morning.”

“We’ve been sent by EMI’s insurance company,” Rami told him. “It’s my understanding that Queen are about to embark on their first tour of America, is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“We’re here to give a mandatory sexual education class to the band and crew to validate the policies which cover the tour. I’m not sure if you’re aware or not, but there are some new… _social diseases,_ shall we say, going around and the insurance company wouldn’t want any of the band to become exposed to any of these new diseases. Otherwise, should they become infected, and be rendered unable to perform, it could end up costing the insurance company and EMI Records millions of dollars.” Mr. Reid felt a blush begin to creep up his cheeks. He turned to look at the secretary, who immediately looked away, feigning to be busy with her work and that she hadn’t just been listening intently to the conversation.

“Gentlemen, perhaps we’d better continue this conversation in my office,” he said. He opened the door and they all stepped inside.

“Gentlemen, this is highly irregular!” he said, once they’d all been seated comfortably. “I assume you have some sort of official paperwork you could show me?” Rami pulled out an envelope containing the paperwork Brian and John had had forged for them, and handed them to Mr. Reid. Mr. Reid put on his glasses and read over the paperwork carefully, mouthing the words to himself. When he’d finished, he took off his glasses and laid them slowly on the desk. “There must be some other way,” he said.

“No class, no tour, I’m afraid,” Rami told him.

“Well, you’re just going to have to give us some more time!” Mr. Reid insisted.

“More time?!” Rami took on an angry tone. “A copy of this letter was sent to you over a month ago, Mr. Reid, detailing the date of our visit. See there? Check the date!” Mr. Reid hurriedly put on his glasses once more and checked the date, and it was just as he’d said, the letter had been sent to him over a month ago.

“But, gentlemen, I swear to you, I never received any letter of the sort!”

“That’s hardly the point. We’re here now and we require accommodation.”

“What sort of accommodation?” Mr. Reid asked.

“A classroom. Any room with a whiteboard, tables, and chairs will be fine.”

“Well, the board room for band meetings and such has a whiteboard, table, and chairs,” Mr. Reid told them.

“That shall do quite nicely, thank you.”

Mr. Reid gave a deep sigh. “Well, I suppose I’d better call Brian first. He’s always been the easiest to deal with.” So he picked up the telephone, and dialed Brian’s number.

*******

When Brian had opened his eyes, he’d been strolling along down a tree-lined pavement, just outside his old flat. He looked up, admiring the way the warm spring sunshine filtered down, making every tiny vein in the leaves visible, and leaving him awash in a dazzling green light. Oh, how beautiful! He took a deep breath, breathing the freshness into his lungs, and closed his eyes, savoring the moment. How wonderful to be young again, without an ache or pain in his entire body. He slowly opened his eyes again, and headed in the direction of the flat. A squirrel scampered warily across the front lawn, pausing occasionally to keep an eye out for danger.

“Hello there,” Brian called to it with a little wave. He got out his keys, which he found in his pocket, and unlocked the front door of the flat.

“Brian, is that you?” called a familiar voice. Brian tried to prepare himself, but when his first wife, Chrissie, came around the corner and he laid eyes on her, a whole flood of emotions and memories, the good and the bad, overtook him. Then he remembered she’d asked him a question.

“Oh, yes, darling. It’s me. I’ve just returned from my walk.” _Don’t cry_ , he told himself. _Don’t cry._ She came over to him, smiling.

“I’ve just put Jimmy down for his mid-morning nap.”

“Oh, would you mind if I looked in on him? Just for a moment?” Brian asked.

“Sure. Of course,” Chrissie told him, a puzzled look on her face. She led him to the nursery and they both came quietly inside. Brian stared down at the sleeping little boy in the cot. He’d forgotten how small his children used to be. He looked like a little cherub slumbering there with his chubby little cheeks, his sweet baby breath. Brian reached a hand down and stroked the little head full of bouncing curls. Then he bent down and kissed him ever so gently on the forehead.

“Love you, baby,” he whispered. When he straightened, Chrissie turned to him and placed a hand lovingly on his arm. Brian wondered if it would be considered being unfaithful to Anita, his current wife, if he were to kiss Chrissie. He decided it wouldn’t be, considering their unique circumstances and that they were living through a replay of history as it were. It was something his younger self would do, and had done. So he bent down and kissed her softly. When their lips parted, they stood for a moment, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. Just at that moment, the phone rang.

“Oh, that bloody phone!” Chrissie whispered with a smile. “Always ruining the moment.”

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll get it,” Brian told her. They left the nursery, closing the door quietly behind them. Brian went over to the phone and picked up the handset.

“Hello,” he answered. It was John Reid on the other line.

“Brian. John Reid here. Listen, I know today was supposed to be a day off, but unfortunately something urgent’s just come up, and you and the boys and are going to have to get down here immediately.”

“Oh, really? What’s going on?

“What’s going on is that EMI’s insurance company has sent a group of doctors here to give the band and crew a mandatory sexual education class. I know how strange that may seem to you, but I’ve checked their paperwork, and everything’s in order. Apparently there’s some sort of new sexual disease out there that they’re worried about you all catching, and costing them millions of dollars when you can’t perform. And if you all don’t attend the class, I’ve been told they won’t validate the insurance policies covering the tour, so in short – no class, no tour.”

“Well can’t they just reschedule it for another day?” Brian asked.

“No, I’m sorry.” There was a long pause, and then John sighed. “Listen, Brian. I’m going to need your help convincing the others and getting them on board with this thing, especially Freddie. You know how he is. The point is, going to America’s a big deal, you know. I’d hate for you to miss out just because of a bit of stubbornness.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll head over to Roger’s flat now,” Brian told him. "And then we can go and pick up Deacy and Freddie."

“Thank you, Brian. I knew I could count on you,” John said, and then he rang off. Brian hung up the phone, then turned to face Chrissie.

“That was John Reid. He needs us to come down to his office. Some sort of meeting to discuss the upcoming tour. Hard to believe it’s only two weeks away,” he said. Chrissie came over and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his middle. 

“But you’ve just got back. Can’t you stay? Just for a little while?”

“I know, darling. And I’m so sorry,” Brian told her, returning her embrace. “But I can’t.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead. Then he went over and opened the door.

“Goodbye, then,” Chrissie called to him.

“Goodbye,” Brian said, and then slowly shut the door closed behind him. He stood there for a moment, a hand over his eyes, willing away his shaky breathing. Then he went down and got into his car that was parked along the kerb. He started the car and fastened his safety belt, then reached into his pocket for his phone, thinking he’d send Roger a quick text before taking off: Headed your way ☺ But then he remembered, there hadn’t been cellular phones back in 1974. _Oh bother_ , he thought. _How we’ve all become spoiled by modern technology!_ Then he put the car in drive, and pulled out onto the roadway, headed in the direction of Roger’s flat.

*******

Roger came back to himself in a rush of adrenaline, endorphins, and ecstasy. Somewhere below him a woman’s exultant screams rang in his ears.

“Oh, yes, Roger! Yes! Yes! Yes!” Then he collapsed beside her, energy spent. Yes, it had been quite a while since this had happened! Leastways without the aid of a certain little blue pill…He turned to his girlfriend, Dominique, a cheeky smile on his face, feeling like a king.

“Say, where’s Felix?” he asked. 

“He’s at my mum’s, remember?”

“Oh, right.” He reached his hand up to stroke her face. “You know something? I’d quite like to do that again.”

“Would you?” she asked, a hand on his chest.

“Yeah. Just give me a few minutes.” And they began kissing again, completely ignoring the ringing of the telephone….

At some point during their second round, there was a knock at the front door.

"Roger?"

"Oh, shit! It's Brian!" Roger said, leaping up. Dominique made as if to get up as well.

"No, no. Just stay there," Roger told her, throwing on his robe. He made his way to the front door and opened it just a smidge.

"You sort of caught me in the middle of something here, Brian. Could you give me five minutes? Just five minutes, please." Roger kept his head down, unable to look Brian in the eye.

"What are you talking about?! There's no time! We've got to go and pick up Deacy and Freddie for the class!" Brian reached in and took him by the arm, yanking him through the doorway.

"God, Brian! At least let me put some clothes on first," Roger mumbled. When he saw Roger's robe, Brian let go of his arm.

"Roger? What have you been up to?"

"Nothing...I-I just…"

"You've just been doing exactly what the class is about, haven't you?"

"Oh, come on, Brian! It's been a while. A very long while. And I was just enjoying myself a little."

"Get dressed," Brian ordered him.

"Alright! Alright! I'm going! I'm going!" Roger went back inside and shut the door. Brian waited impatiently outside, arms crossed over his chest, tapping one foot on the ground. Roger emerged sheepishly a short few minutes later.

"Some role model for Freddie you are," Brian told him.

"Oh, sod off!" Roger retorted, putting on a pair of shades. "Come on, let's go!" Then they both went down and got into Brian's car, and headed towards Deacy's flat.

*******

All of a sudden, Deacy found himself sitting on the sofa in the sitting room of his flat. He'd been tinkering with something in his hands, but then he felt something against his cheek. He set the object in his hands down on the table in front of him, then reached up to brush whatever it was away from his face. That's when he realized it was his hair. His hair! He actually had hair again! He jumped up and rushed into the loo to look at himself in the mirror. There were almost tears in his eyes as he ran his hands through his glorious locks. He just had to show someone!

"Veronica!" he called to his then girlfriend, stepping out into the hallway, a smile on his face. But there was no answer, so he figured she must have gone down to the grocery or something, and he found a note for him saying just this, on the kitchen table. Just then the phone rang so John went to answer it.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello, John. It's John," Mr. Reid said with a laugh, then he explained to him about the class.

"Well, alright," John said, after Mr. Reid had finished speaking.

"Thank you for taking this so well, John. I really appreciate it. I couldn't reach Roger by phone, but I did speak to Brian, and he said he was heading over to Roger's flat, and then they were coming to pick you up, so hopefully they should be showing up there soon. Now, I've just got to phone Freddie."

"Good luck with that."

"Thanks, I think I'm going to need it."

John went into the kitchen, and left his own note for Veronica, telling her where he'd gone, then sat down on the sofa to wait, but he didn't have to wait long. Brian and Roger arrived in short order, and the three of them made their way towards Freddie's flat.

*******

Back at his office, John Reid took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, preparing himself for the Mercurial temper tantrum he was certain he was about to face. He let his breath out that he'd been holding, opened his eyes, and nervously picked up the phone and dialed Freddie's number.

"Hello," said a woman's voice, and John knew it must be Freddie's girlfriend, Mary.

"Oh, hello, Mary. It's John Reid. Is Freddie available?"

"Yes, he's available. Just a moment." _It's John Reid for you, darling,_ John heard Mary say in the background. Freddie came to the phone.

"Hello, John, darling, what is it?"

"Er...well, how are you, Freddie?" John asked, playing for time.

"I'm just peachy, darling," Freddie said, casually examining his nails. "And yourself?"

"I've, um...had better days."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that, darling. What seems to be the trouble?" 

John steeled himself, then told Freddie the same thing he'd told the others about the class. There was a long silence. Finally, Freddie spoke.

"Is this some sort of a joke, darling? Did Brian and the others put you up to this?"

"No, I'm being quite serious. Brian and the others are already on their way over to your flat right now to come and pick you up."

"Sexual education class? Oh, don't be ridiculous! No!"

"I'm sorry, Freddie! My hands are tied! What can I do?"

"Oh, I'll tell you what you can do, darling. You can tell them to take their sexual education class and shove it up their-"

"Ok. Alright. I understand your frustration, Freddie. I really do. But without the class, there can't be any tour of America. And I'm not sure if that's something Queen can afford to miss out on…" Another pause, and John could tell Freddie was mulling it over. He sighed.

"Fine. I'll come to the class, darling. But when I get down there, so help me, I'm going to-" John gave a tight, lipped smile to the other three men in the room, as Freddie continued his tirade in his ear. "And you can tell EMI that if anything like this ever happens again, I swear I'll-" John's eyes grew wide in shock. Then he looked a bit puzzled.

"Is that even physically possible?" he asked.

"Trust me, darling, they don't want to find out!" And then Freddie rang off. John hung up the phone, then blew his breath out, running a hand through his hair. _Only one more phone call to make._ He picked the phone back up and this time dialed Peter "Ratty" Hince, head of Queen's road crew. Ratty was certainly none too pleased about having to attend the class either.

"But the road crew's not covered by the insurance policy!" he pointed out, vehemently. "So why should we have to attend the class?"

“I suppose since you work in such close quarters, they don’t want you contracting anything and exposing the band,” John told him. Ratty just kept on grumbling, and John decided he may have to indulge Freddie’s temper tantrums, but he certainly wasn’t going to put up with the same behavior from the road crew.

“Well I don’t give a damn if you want to or not, Ratty! You and the rest of the crew get your arses down here right now! Or otherwise you’ll all be out in the street on your ears!” Then he rang off.

“God, I could use a drink,” he said, pouring himself a brandy neat, straight from a bottle he always kept on his desk for occasions just such as these, which when managing a band like Queen, especially with Freddie Mercury as the lead singer, seemed to occur quite often.

*******

“I’m not going!” Freddie insisted, having once again changed his mind when Brian, Roger, and John had showed up at the flat.

“You just don’t like being told what to do,” Brian pointed out.

“Well, don’t they know who I am?! I'm Freddie Mercury!” 

“I’m sure they’re well aware of that fact, Freddie,” Brian told him. “But the hard fact of life is that it’s like that Rolling Stones song, isn’t it? _You Can’t Always Get What You Want_. Not even if you’re Freddie Mercury.” Freddie mimicked Brian under his breath while he was looking the other way.

“Hut. Nobody tells me what to do,” he said. “Except Mary of course,” he added quickly when Mary shot him a look. “More like suggests,” he whispered to Roger and John. “I tell you I’m not whipped!”

“Freddie,” Mary said to him.

"Yes, darling?"

"The baby's crying."

“Yes, dear.” Freddie got up immediately and retrieved the baby from his cot, while Roger and John stifled snorts of laughter. _No, not whipped at all._

“Would you like to hold the baby?” Mary offered to Brian when Freddie brought the baby over.

“Um...yes. Yes, I would,” he said. As he took the baby in his arms, a huge smile broke out over his face. “How old is he now?” he asked.

“Just a little short of two months,” Mary informed him. Brian felt his heart melting as those two tiny dark eyes stared trustingly back into his. He stroked the little head, covered in the black hair he’d inherited from his father.

“I’m trying really hard to save your Daddy, Freddie, I promise,” he whispered to him softly, kissing him on the forehead. He handed the baby to Mary and then turned his attention back to Freddie. 

“Listen, Freddie, what if John Reid is right? These sorts of opportunities don’t come around that often. What if this is our one chance to really make it big, huh? If America loves you, you’re golden. You know that.” Brian could tell that Freddie still wasn’t totally convinced. “The tour's been completely sold out. We'd have to cancel all those shows...We've made a promise to the fans, Freddie. And if there's one thing I know about Freddie Mercury, it's that when he makes a promise, he keeps it, and that he'd never let his fans down like that." Freddie was quiet for a long while, but finally he spoke:

"Alright, darling. You got me. Let's just hurry up and get this whole thing over with then, shall we?"

"Well done, Freddie. Well done," Brian told him with a smile, while Roger and John slapped him on the back.

*******

Freddie got into the back of the car with John, while Roger sat up front on the passenger side beside Brian. Freddie had his shades on, arms crossed over his chest. He still wasn't happy, but at least he was going. 

“Oh, come on now, Freddie. Surely the class won’t be all that bad. We may even learn something new,” Brian told him cheerfully.

"Hut. Not likely, darling," Freddie replied. Brian gave a contented sigh as he put the car in gear and pulled out into the lane. They rode along in silence, except for the sound of a slight gentle swish, as John combed his hair for about the thousandth time that day.

"Keep that up for too much longer, darling, and you won't have any more hair left to brush," Freddie told him.

"Sorry," John apologized, laying the brush in his lap. "It's just that it's so beautiful, I can't stop myself."

"Well, of course it's beautiful! You look gorgeous just like always, darling," Freddie told him with a wink.

"I just can't believe I have hair again!" Then he sat there with his mouth hanging open when he realized what he'd just said.

"What do you mean _again_? Don't you have hair every day, darling?" Freddie asked, amused. 

"Er...yeah. I do, I do. But it just doesn't usually look this great."

Brian coughed, and looked over at Roger's feet up on the dash.

"Oh, I see you went with the pink, sparkly ones," Brian said, indicating Roger's converse trainers. 

"Yeah, I'd almost forgotten about these. I've always thought they were quite stylish for the '70s." Brian gave him a what-the-fuck look.

"What are you on about, Roger? You wear those almost every day," Freddie said.

"I-I…," Roger stammered, staring determinedly out the window, "It's just that I have so many pairs of shoes to choose from, that I forget which all kinds I own sometimes." 

"Mm, I know what you mean darling," Freddie said with a sigh, and luckily he didn't pursue it any further. That was until they got lost. Brian looked on either side of the road for some sort of landmark to jog his memory, but nothing looked familiar.

"Must have taken a wrong turn back there somewhere," he said. "Siri, give me directions to Rockets Records, please." But by the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.

"Alright, Brian. What exactly is going on here? And who the hell is this Siri?" Freddie asked.

"Oh...uh...that's Roger," Brian said the first thing that popped into his mind. "Sometimes I call him Siri. It's a little inside joke between the two of us. You wouldn't understand."

"Yeah, that's right," Roger agreed. Freddie looked between the two of them, then just shook his head.

"Whatever you say, darlings." So Roger helped Brian get them turned around and going back in the right direction.

"In 304.8 meters turn left onto Wardour Street," Roger said in his best imitation Siri voice, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Thanks, Rog," Brian said sarcastically, as they pulled up in front of Rocket Records.

*******

John Reid and the “doctors” all stood at the door to greet them as they filed into the temporary classroom.

“Come in, gentlemen. Come in. Sign in here, please. And then take a seat,” Rami told them.

“Can we sit just anywhere? Or are there assigned seats?” Roger asked as they signed the registrar.

“Yes, just anywhere. No assigned seats,” Rami told them. Jobby, Brian’s roadie, was already sitting at the back of the room on the right hand side of the table. Brian sat down beside him and they immediately fell deep into conversation. Roger sat down beside Brian, then Freddie, Ratty, Crystal (Roger’s roadie), and last of all John right at the front. The rest of the crew sat on the left hand side of the table.

“Well, I think that’s everyone,” John Reid said, as the last person signed in. Rami closed the door, and then he and the others took their spots at the front of the room.

“Welcome, gentlemen, to-” Rami began, when suddenly, the whole classroom broke out in snickers and suppressed snorts of laughter. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s so funny?” He turned around to look at the whiteboard, and that’s when he saw that _someone_ had changed the name of the class he’d written there, _Sex Ed 101,_ and it now read _Intro to Fucking 101_. “Alright which one of you’s done this? Who was it?” Freddie and Roger covered their mouths, trying to contain their laughter. Brian elbowed Roger hard.

“Roger, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, Bri. I couldn’t help it. You know how I am when I get around Freddie.”

“Hey,” Brian said, snapping his fingers at them. “Don’t make me separate the two of you,” he warned, which just made them laugh all the harder. Rami sighed, and turned around to correct the name.

“Not off to a good start, Mr. Mercury.”

Freddie gave an indignant gasp. “Whatever do you mean, darling? It wasn't me! I've been sat here in my seat this entire time, ready to learn." Ratty and the others all laughed.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Rami continued. “Welcome, gentlemen, to Sex Ed 101. Now-”

“I'm sorry but what exactly is the point of all this, darling?” Freddie interrupted. “The only one who needs this class is Ratty, he's the only virgin. The rest of us have already, uh...sown our seed."

“Fuck off, Fred!”

“Watch it, Mr. Mercury,” Rami warned him. “Or your name’s going up on the board.”

“Ohhh!” Freddie laughed mockingly, inciting all the others to play up as well.

“Besides, this class isn’t about performing the act itself, thank God. It’s about protecting yourself during said act,” Rami told them. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Malek. And this is Dr. Hardy, Dr. Lee, and Dr. Mazzello.” The others gave a small wave or curt nod as they were introduced. “Now, the purpose of our visit here today, gentlemen, is to inform you of some newly discovered diseases being spread about by having intimate relations, that is - engaging in sexual intercourse. One of them so terrible, so sinister that it doesn't even have a name yet. No name, and no cure," he said, as if he were telling them a bone-chilling campfire story.

"And, er...what happens if you catch that one?" John asked.

"Oh, it makes your dick rot and fall off," Ben answered him.

"Yes, that's right. Literally rot and fall off..." Gwilym confirmed.

"And then you die..." Joe added.

"And then you die," they all agreed. The men all gulped.

"And if you don't believe us, we have some pictures here to show you." Rami took some papers with some printed pictures and handed them to John. "Here pass these around."

Freddie gagged when he saw the pictures. "I think I'm going to be sick!" he exclaimed dramatically, a hand held to his mouth, and he quickly passed the pictures on to Roger.

"Now, gentlemen, that doesn't mean you have to give up your sex lives," Joe told them, with a reassuring smile. "On the contrary - you can have as much sex as you want. All you have to do to protect yourselves, is to wear a condom each and every time you have casual sex - that means with anyone other than a spouse or long-time partner that you are absolutely certain doesn't have any sort of sexually transmitted disease."

The men all groaned.

"Hey! It's either that or your cock falling off," Ben told them. "You saw the pictures. Now, which would you rather?"

“Alright, everybody grab a banana,” Joe told them merrily. So everyone received a condom and a banana to practice with, as well as a bulleted list on how to use a condom correctly. 

“Hmm, these are rather small. I’m just not sure they’re going to fit over _my_ banana,” Freddie said, looking suggestively down at his crotch, causing Roger to snicker. “Though, I’m afraid they may be far too big for Ratty.”

“You shut the fuck up about that, Freddie, or I'm gonna kick your arse!” Ratty went for him playfully, but Freddie just laughed and held him off.

“Hey! Hey!” Rami shouted. “That’s enough, boys. Settle down, now.” Then he turned to Freddie. “Mr. Mercury, go up there and put your name on the board, and then write 10 times, ‘I will not mock my classmates’.”

“Wha-But I-” Freddie looked to Brian for support, but he merely pointed towards the whiteboard.

“Go,” he told him sternly. So Freddie did as he was told, mumbling under his breath the entire time. He wasn’t alone for long however – Roger soon joined him at the board, for having turned his condom into a balloon animal. By the time they returned to their seats, everyone had successfully gotten their condoms on their bananas. 

“Well done, gentlemen, well done,” Rami praised them. Freddie and Roger made to sit down beside each other again, but Brian sat down in between them, separating them.

“Oh, no! Don’t even think about it! The two of you are NOT sitting together any longer!” he told them.

“Mr. Mercury, don’t you have something you’d like to say to Mr. Hince here?” Rami asked Freddie.

“Yeah,” Freddie said, hanging his head. He looked up at Ratty, true remorse in his eyes. “I’m sorry for saying you had a small dick. I mean it’s obviously not small. It’s actually quite…miniscule!”

“Freddie!” Brian hissed, while Roger and the others howled with laughter.

“Absolutely microscopic!” Freddie crowed. Emboldened by Freddie, Roger took the pencil top cap eraser off of a nearby pencil and handed it to Ratty.

“Here you are, Ratty. Here’s your condom!"

"That's alright. I'll get you two bastards just when you least expect it. You just wait and see if I don't!" Ratty threatened, all in good humor.

John thought Roger and Freddie were literally going to asphyxiate from laughing so hard, that was until Brian grabbed them both by the ear.

"Alright, that's it. The two of you are coming with me right now," he told them.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Freddie and Roger cried at the same time.

"Wait, Brian, wait! We're sorry. We were just kidding around," Freddie protested.

"Yeah, Brian. We won't do it anymore. We promise," Roger swore.

"Well, it's far too late for that now," Brian told them. He took them out into the hallway, and shut the door firmly behind him. Rami began whistling, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet, while the others leant forward trying to catch snatches of the conversation from outside:

"Now, look here, Brian. Roger and I are both grown up men and you can't just-"

"Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"And if you insist on behaving like two naughty school boys, then you'll be treated as such."

Then it sounded like Brian was really telling them off, though the others inside couldn't quite catch the words.

"Do you understand me? And if I have to take either one of you out into this hallway again, I'm going to-"

Brian must have threatened something truly terrifying then, but they couldn't quite make out what it was.

"Have I made myself quite clear?"

"Yes, Brian," they heard Freddie and Roger say in frightened voices.

"Good." Brian opened the door then, and everybody pretended very hard like they hadn't all just been eavesdropping. And while it wasn't exactly clear what all had been said or done out there in the hallway, Freddie and Roger definitely looked cowed. Brian brought them both to the front of the class.

"Apologize," he told them.

"Sorry, Ratty and everybody," Roger apologized. Freddie stood there with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Freddie…" Brian said his name warningly.

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled.

"That's all right," Ratty shouted, quite enjoying this. "From now on when the two of you get out of line, we'll just sic Brian on you." All the men laughed.

"Boys…" Brian warned before Freddie and Roger could say or do anything. "Right. I want the two of you in the corner. Now...No, no, not the same corner. Freddie, you over there. Roger you over there." Brian returned to his seat. Freddie and Roger looked over their shoulders and grinned at each other, barely able to keep from laughing. "No. Turn around and face the wall," Brian told them. Then he gave a sigh and turned back to Rami. "I'm so sorry about that. Now where we were?" he asked politely with a smile.

"Uh...we were just um, reading from this list here…" Rami said staring down at the bulleted list they'd passed out. So they continued on with the class and finally Brian allowed Freddie and Roger to return to their seats.

"Now some of you may be saying to yourselves - what was the point of all this? I've got a wife or a girlfriend at home," Joe was saying. "But what happens on tour stays on tour. Huh? Am I right, boys? Am I right? So here's a few for the road." And he began going around the room passing out condoms, five each.

"That's right," Rami said, nodding his head. "And just always remember-"

"Before you hump, cover your stump," said Ben.

"Don't be silly, protect your willie," Gwilym added.

"Don't be a prick, wrap your dick," Joe chimed in.

"Because you can't tell just by looking at a person whether they have a disease or not. And you never know which one's going to be _the one_ to infect you," Rami concluded.

During the passing out of the condoms, Freddie noticed he'd been skipped. He gave a gasp. "I've been skipped!" he said to himself. Then he turned to Brian. "I've been skipped!"

"Calm down, Freddie," Brian told him. "I'm sure they'll be coming back around this way in a minute."

Freddie raised his hand in the air to get Joe's attention.

"Excuse me. I'm sorry, but, it appears I've been skipped over here, darling."

"Oh, don't worry. We'll get to you in just a moment, Mr. Mercury," Joe assured him. When he'd finished passing out the condoms to all the other men, Joe came over to Freddie. Freddie held his hand out for the condoms, but instead Joe upturned the container, covering the whole space in front of Freddie in condoms, and some spilling down onto the floor. Freddie just stared for a moment.

"Yes, well, I suppose this will last me….for a few days at least," he said, gathering up the condoms.

Rami dismissed the class, and afterwards John Reid came over and shook their hands.

"Thank you, gentlemen. That was quite, uh...informative. Here, let me show you out."

"No, no, don't trouble yourself. We know the way," Rami told him. Then when no one was looking, he, Ben, Gwilym, and Joe carefully snuck back down to the basement.

Freddie looked up and noticed Brian, Roger, and John standing around him.

"What?" he asked.

"We just really want you to take this seriously, Freddie," Brian said. "You're more than just a bandmate and a friend. You're family, and we love you and care about you and we don't want anything bad to happen to you. We'd hate to see you struck down in your prime, with so much more to do, so much life still yet to live. And all because of a terrible disease you caught from some one night stand."

"Don't be ridiculous, darling. If something happens to me, you just replace me and-and move on," Freddie shrugged.

"No, we could never replace you, Freddie, and you know it. Queen wouldn't be Queen without you," Brian told him.

"You're really worried about this aren't you?" Freddie asked.

"Yes, we are."

"We all are, mate," Roger said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, if you're that concerned about, and if it'll make you happy, darlings, then I will. Take it seriously. I'll take it very seriously, alright? I promise." 

Brian, Roger, and John all hugged him close.

"And," Roger added once they'd let him go. "If you ever run across some guy named Paul Prenter or a German actress named Barbara Valentin, you stay away, you stay far away. From the both of them." He told him this as if he were telling a five-year-old not to take candy from strangers.

"Well, who the hell are they, darling?" Freddie asked.

"They're just some people we've heard some very bad things about. People you wouldn't want to get mixed up with," Roger told him. "And by the way, if you find yourself in need of a personal assistant, we suggest a young man named Peter Freestone. He works in the ballet wardrobe department of the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, and he comes highly recommended. Best of the best."

"Well, alright, darlings. Alright," Freddie agreed. Just then he happened to spot John Reid as he was trying to sneak back to his office. "Oh, John," he called. John's shoulders fell, but when he turned around there was a huge fake smile plastered on his face.

"Yes, Freddie?"

"I'd like a quick word," Freddie said, beckoning him over with his finger. So while John was stuck listening to Freddie bitch, Brian, Roger, and John eased away, and made their way back down to the basement. Rami and the others had already gathered in the tarpaulin, and they motioned to them through the open doorway.

"Hurry! Get in! Get in!"

They got in quickly, and Brian shut the door behind them, making sure it was securely closed and locked. Brian set the date for the same day in 2017 from which they'd come, though he set the time back a bit to 8 AM.

"Now, this time-" Brian began to explain, "-my, Roger, and John's younger selves will come back to this exact date and time, just before we stepped into the time machine. They'll retain all their memories from this day, except those related to the time travel of course. Then all of us will be transported into our bodies wherever they happen to be in the new reality of 2017, which we've hopefully just created." 

Everyone nodded their heads, and then Brian pressed the button…

*******

Brian awoke to the faint glow of sunshine behind his eyelids. He was snuggled deep into the warm, fluffy whiteness of his bed. Then he remembered everything, and his eyes popped open. He reached for his phone and immediately googled "Is Freddie Mercury still alive?" The first thing that popped up was a Wikipedia article on Freddie. Brian clicked on it and read:

Death. On the evening of 24 November 1991, Mercury died at the age of 45 at his home in Kensington. The cause of death was blunt force trauma, caused when a grand piano that was so large it had to be brought in through an upstairs window, fell when a cable broke, crushing Mr. Mercury who had been supervising it's delivery below.

And suddenly it was as if a cloud had passed over the sun, and all the air was sucked out of the room. He phoned Roger and John on a conference call to break the news.

"It's about Freddie," Brian said. "He's still-"

"Dead. I know, I've just seen it, mate." Roger sighed. "We've got to go back."


	3. Save Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie, this chapter's a bit of a wild ride, but I hope you will still enjoy it all the same. :)

Brian, Roger, and John made plans to meet up in an hour in John's garage. So Brian got ready in a hurry and in the meantime took another conference call, this time with Rami and the other BoRhap boys who called him from the set, having just discovered the news about Freddie themselves.

"Should we tell Little Freddie and the others?" Rami asked.

"No. They didn't travel back in time with us so they have no memories of the way things used to be. This isn't a new reality for them like it is for us, for them this is just the way things have always been," Brian explained. "Roger, John, and I have plans to meet in an hour, I'm on my way over there now," he told them, shrugging on his jacket.

"So you're going back, then?" Ben asked.

"That's the plan," Brian said.

"Do you need us to come over as well?" Gwilym inquired.

"I'd dearly love the help," Brian said, "but you've got to remember, we're going back to November 24, 1991, the day Freddie died. You all would have been children, and Little Freddie and the others would have been teenagers. So Roger, John, and I will have to be on our own this time I'm afraid."

"Well, good luck, and we'll see you on the other side," Joe told him.

"Thank you. With Freddie we're going to need all the luck we can get."

*******

Roger was already there in the garage with John when Brian arrived.

"So what's the plan?" Roger asked, leaning on his hands on the work table.

"Well, this time should be relatively simple," Brian said. "All we have to do is make sure Freddie stays at a safe distance during the delivery of the piano. Maybe mention something to the deliverymen about double-checking the cables, and that should be it. A walk in the park, really, compared to last time, wouldn't you say?" 

Roger and John agreed with Brian that the plan seemed comparatively uncomplicated and straightforward, and they all three got into the time machine.

"I've set the coordinates for the time machine to appear in Deacy's garage, just where it is now. And all of us, of course, will be transported into our then bodies," Brian explained. "I'm setting the time for 10 AM, and we'll all meet over at Freddie's house at 11. Any earlier than that and Freddie won't have gotten out of bed yet, piano delivery or not."

"Right," Roger agreed.

And then Brian pressed the button….

*******

When Brian came back to himself, he felt a bit disoriented. It felt as if there were something heavy wrapped around his legs, weighing him down. He looked down and saw that his four-year-old daughter, Emily Ruth, had hugged herself to his legs.

"Daddy, can we go to the park, pwease," she begged. That's when Brian noticed his now ex-wife, Chrissie, standing in front of him with an exasperated look on her face.

"Brian, are you even listening to me?" she asked.

Brian looked over and saw his other daughter, ten-year-old Louisa, standing nearby, and he realized it must have been his weekend, and she was handing the kids off to him.

"No, no. I'm so sorry. I can't look after the children today," he told her, slowly extracting himself from Emily Ruth's embrace of his legs.

"Why not? It's your weekend, Brian."

"I know. I know. But I've got to go and check up on Freddie. I've just got this terrible feeling that something bad might happen to him."

"Got to check up on Freddie. Right. And you came all the way over here just to tell me that, and then turn right back around and leave again, is that it? Have I got that right?"

"Chrissie, I really am so very sorry," Brian apologized without knowing what else he could possibly say.

"Right, kids. Let's go. Your father's a very busy man, after all. Making gold records and touring the world, you know."

"No, Chrissie, come on, don't say that. It's not like that at all."

"Well, then what is it like, Brian? If you'd rather spend time with your friends than your own children, then who am I to stop you?"

"But I wanna go to the park!" Emily Ruth cried.

"It's alright, love. Mummy will take you to the park. Come on," Chrissie told her, taking the little girl by the hand.

"No! I want my Daddy!" Emily Ruth sobbed, trying to pull away from her mother's grasp.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," Brian told her. "Daddy will take you to the park tomorrow."

"No, you won't, Brian. They've got school tomorrow. Or haven't you learned yet not to make promises you can't keep?" Chrissie turned her back on him, and took the children, the youngest one screaming now, back into the house and slammed the door in his face.

Brian felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He just stood there for a moment trying to make sense out of what had just happened. Then he turned and slowly made his way to his car, which was parked in front of the kerb. Clearly he had underestimated how painful reliving some of these old memories would be. He got into the driver's seat and buried his head in his arms against the steering wheel. 

"Fuck."

Suddenly he was startled by a voice.

"Where are Emily Ruth and Louisa?"

It was his son, Jimmy, who'd already come out to wait for him in the car.

"Um, there's been a small change of plans. They're not coming today."

Jimmy seemed completely unfazed by this news as if this sort of thing happened all the time, and didn't even look up when he spoke, leaving Brian to wonder what kind of monster he'd become.

"Right. Well, can you still give me a lift over to Felix's house? Band practice today. Already gonna be late."

"Sure. Of course," Brian said. He fastened his safety belt, then put the car in gear, and pulled out into the lane.

*******

Roger found himself standing beside his son Felix, both of them up to their elbows in motor grease, working on his old 1975 Alfa Romeo Spider. Felix was singing to himself softly under his breath:

When my hand's on your grease gun

Oh it's like a disease, son

I'm in love with my car…

And Roger couldn't help but smile.

John became aware that he was down on his knees wielding a screwdriver, with two teenage boys staring down at him anxiously.

"Do you think you'll be able to fix it, Mr. Deacon?" asked Little Freddie, ever polite.

"Yeah, do you think you'll be able to fix it, Dad?" That was his son, Robert.

John saw that he was repairing one of their amps, and thankfully he was almost finished. Just one last little thing here…

"There you are, boys. That should do it," John said, standing up.

"Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Deacon!"

"Yeah, thanks, Dad. You're the best," Robert told him, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

John looked around to see that he was standing in some garage, and there was Roger only a few feet away working on some old car of his.

"Well, this was convenient wasn't it, Deacy?" Roger said with a laugh.

"Well, come on, Felix. Hurry up, mate! He's got it fixed now," the other boys called to Felix.

"Alright. I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't get your knickers in a twist." Felix wiped his hands on a rag, and then took his drumsticks out of his back pocket, twirling them in his hands. Roger turned to him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You know, Felix, son, I don’t tell you nearly enough, but I’m proud of you. Really,” he told him.

“Thanks, Dad,” Felix said with a smile. Then he came over to where the other boys were.

“What’s the big hurry, then? Our guitarist hasn’t even got here yet, has he?”

Just then Brian’s car pulled up outside.

“Speak of the devil…”

As soon as they pulled up, Jimmy opened the door to get out.

“Jimmy, wait…” Brian said.

“Dad, I’ve got to get plugged in!” Jimmy shouted, slamming the door and going around to the boot of the car to get his guitar out. Brian got out as well and followed him around to the back of the car.

“Jimmy, please just listen to me for a moment, alright?”

Jimmy didn’t look at him, but appeared to be listening.

“I just want to say I’m sorry about the way things worked out with your mum. When you’re young, you think things are going to last forever. But things happen – life isn’t always easy, and sometimes people change.”

“Yeah, some people decide to become cheaters…”

“That’s fair. I deserve that,” Brian admitted. “And there’s not one day that I don’t wake up and regret the pain I’ve caused your mother and you, and Louisa, and Emily Ruth. But just because your mum and I aren’t _in love_ with each other anymore, doesn’t mean I don’t still love her and care about her, because I do, very much. And I’m always going to be there for you, and Louisa, and Emily Ruth, no matter what.”

“Psh. Yeah, and how’s that worked out for you so far?” Jimmy mumbled under his breath. 

“What?” Brian asked, genuinely having not heard.

“I’m just saying, we had this same talk about, what, three years ago? So I’m good,” Jimmy told him. “This same talk about how even though you and mum aren’t in love with each other anymore, but the both of you still love us, and how it’s not our fault, nothing we’ve done has caused this, and how nothing is going to change for us. But guess what, Dad? It has changed. Our lives have become a living hell, thanks to you.” Jimmy slammed the boot shut, and stalked away. 

“Jimmy, wait…” Brian called again. Jimmy stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Please…I-I just want to make things better between us.” Jimmy did turn around then.

“Alright. Then stay and hear us play.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ve got to meet Roger and John over at Freddie’s house, and-”

Jimmy just shook his head. “You know what, Dad? Just forget it. Just go. I’ll see later.”

“No, Jimmy, wait!” Brian shouted. “I’ll-I’ll stay.”

“Alright. Come on, then,” Jimmy said to him. So Brian followed him into the garage, and he was glad he did, because here were Roger and John both, and now they could all ride together over to Freddie’s house. Jimmy rushed to get plugged in, and Brian helped him put on his guitar. Then he, Roger, and John stood back, and Brian couldn’t help but get a little choked up with pride seeing their sons standing there like that ready to rock n’ roll. Little Freddie struck a pose, completely reminiscent of his father. 

“This one’s called _The Sons of Queen_ ,” he told them, and as the others began playing, he sang:

Using what our daddies gave us to make our dough

Yeah, we’re really gonna put on a show

When they see us up on stage, you know all them little girlies gonna sigh

Make their mamas break down and cry

Saying: Stay at home, sugar, those are some bad, bad boys

Well, that’s right, honey! Stay at home and listen to your mama now. Don’t you know who we are?

We are The Sons of Queen

Like nothing you ain’t ever seen

‘Cause baby it’s time to de-stress

Maybe even undress

If you know what I mean

Wanna hear you scream: Oh, Freddie!!!

The music stopped abruptly as all the boys fell apart laughing. The high-falsetto _Oh, Freddie!!!_ was completely unexpected, having been ad-libbed on Little Freddie’s part.

“No, no, mate. Keep that bit in. That was nice,” Felix told him. As the boys laughed and discussed the song, Brian, Roger, and John decided they’d better be getting over to Freddie’s house now.

“Alright, boys. Behave yourselves. We’re heading over to Garden Lodge. Freddie’s having a new piano delivered, and he wants to show it off to us I suppose,” Roger told them.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Taylor," Little Freddie responded, and Brian and the others couldn’t help but marvel at the exquisite manners of this seventeen-year-old boy, and future rock star. Freddie had definitely raised him to be a gentleman, and raised him right. Then they all got into Brian’s car, and made their way towards Garden Lodge.

*******

Arriving at Garden Lodge, they parked the car, then came and rang the bell at the front gate. Phoebe arrived in short order to let them in, clearly suffering from a terrible cold.

“I’m sorry. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m feeling a bit under the weather today,” he told them as he led them in through the garden. As they were walking across the garden, Freddie himself came out to greet them.

“Freddie, it’s you!” Brian blurted out, before he could stop himself.

“Well, of course it’s me, darling. Who the hell did you think it was going to be? Kim Basinger. Ha! You wish.” 

“It’s just been so long,” John said, then chanced a glance at the others, realizing what he'd said.

“I know, darling, going more than twenty-four hours without seeing Freddie's Mercury's gorgeous face can seem like a life-time, can't it,” he laughed. “Oh, darling, what are you talking about, _it’s been so long_? Weren’t the three of you just over here yesterday?”

“Wow, Freddie, mate, you look great!” Roger exclaimed, trying to change to subject. “Have you been working out?”

“Not really, darling, no. Well, I mean I occasionally do the odd press-up here and there, but…” Freddie answered, flexing his arm muscles, but despite his modesty, Freddie was fit, muscular, and toned, just like he had been in his younger days before he’d gotten sick.

“Say, where’s Jim,” Brian ventured to ask, hoping against all hope that there was still a Jim in this new reality. And indeed there was.

“He’s just left Friday to go and visit his mother in Ireland,” Freddie told them, and they all breathed a sigh of relief. Jim had been so good for Freddie, and they were glad he was still around.

“You know, we should all go and have a drink,” Roger suggested. Brian coughed.

“I’m not sure that’s exactly the plan we had in mind, Roger,” he said, giving Roger a look as if he’d gone crazy.

“Well, you see, the thing is, darling, I’m having a new piano delivered later this afternoon, and-”

“You see there? He’s got a very important delivery coming this afternoon, and he couldn’t possibly-” Brian tried, but Roger cut him off.

“Surely you could have Phoebe or Liza (Joe Fanelli) take care of that for you, couldn’t you?” Roger said, completely ignoring Brian.

“Liza’s gone on holiday for a week, well-earned and deserved, I must say,” Freddie said, “but, yes, I suppose Phoebe could look after things for me while I'm gone." He cast a glance in Phoebe's direction.

"Of course, Freddie, that's what I'm here for," Phoebe inclined his head with a smile.

"Only watch them like a hawk, dear. You know how deliverymen can be - real brutes. Goodness knows what they might scratch, or break, or steal, if there aren't a set of eyes on them at all times," Freddie said. "Too bad they won't be my eyes. Some of them do look quite good," he said with a laugh.

"Freddie, you're a taken man!" Brian mock scolded.

"I know, darling, but that doesn't mean I can't still look. It's the touching part that gets you into trouble," he laughed again. 

"Oh, by the way, Phoebe, you may want to stay well back while they're getting the piano in," Brian said. "I was reading an article just the other day about a man who was crushed to death when a piano he was having delivered fell on him, due to a faulty cable."

"Yes, yes, darling," Freddie agreed sagely, nodding his head. "Have them double check the cables. Have them double check everything, and then you stay at a safe distance. And as soon as they've gone and everything's settled, then you're to go straight to bed and lie down and get some rest. You look as if you feel awful, darling."

Phoebe protested, but Freddie shook his head.

"No, no. Now, I don't want to hear anything more about it. That's doctor's orders. The cats and I can surely survive on our own for one night. Though I won't deny it'll be difficult, darling. You take such good care of us." He looked back at Roger and the others. "Well, alright, darlings. You know I'm always up for a drink, but what's the occasion? Not that there has to be an occasion, mind you. I was just wondering what we're celebrating."

"Your health and Queen - long may she reign," Roger told him.

"Long may she reign," Freddie repeated, a smile on his face. "Well, come on. I'll have my driver take us," he said.

"It's not even noon yet," Brian protested weakly, as the others headed in the direction of the car.

"Oh, come on, Brian, stop being an old stick-in-the-mud. Let's live a little. Have some fun."

Brian clamped a hand firmly on Roger's shoulder, when he turned around.

"The plan was to keep Freddie out of harm's way with the piano. Not take him gallivanting off to some bar or pub!"

"Well, we're not going to some bar or pub. We're going to Richoux. It's a nice upscale restaurant."

"Well, that's hardly the point," Brian argued.

"Look, Brian, I just thought with Freddie, there's no such thing as a safe distance. The farther away the better. We'll just have lunch and a few drinks, and then we'll bring him back home after the piano's been delivered. It'll be fine," Roger said. So Brian at last reluctantly agreed, and they all got into Freddie's car, and headed off to the restaurant.

*******

"I'm telling you darling, you must try the Welsh rarebit," Freddie said to John, after they'd been seated at the restaurant. "It's cheese on toast, done with a touch of luxury. You’ll absolutely love it.”

“Very good, gentlemen,” the waiter said, after having taken their order. “Anything to drink this evening?” 

Freddie told the waiter to bring them four bottles of champagne, two bottles of vodka, a bottle of Jack Daniels, two dozen beers, and for himself spearmint schnapps. And that should have been Brian’s first clue that things were about to go decidedly pear-shaped.

“Just water for me,” Brian said with a smile, handing the waiter his menu. “Someone’s got to be the responsible party around here.” When the waiter had gone, he turned to Freddie. “So what happened to your piano, Freddie, that you’re having to have it replaced?”

“Oh, um…Jim and I got a little carried away the other night, before he left to go on holiday…”

Brian looked and he couldn’t believe it – was that a blush on Freddie Mercury’s face? “What the hell were the two of you doing,” he laughed. “Swinging from the damn chandeliers?”

“Er…that might have been involved, yes,” Freddie said. “Well, that and a bottle of Stoli and vintage port,” he added with a laugh.

“What? On a Thursday night?” Roger asked.

“It’s Mary’s week to keep the kids,” Freddie told them, as if that explained everything. And Brian mentally reminded himself to never show up at Freddie’s house, even on a weeknight, without phoning first. Eventually talk got around to Little Freddie and the other boys’ band, The Sons of Queen. “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Freddie told the others. “I’ve booked them some studio time here at one of the local places.”

“Wow! That’s great, Freddie. What studio?” Brian asked. Freddie lit a cigarette and took a long, slow drag, enjoying stretching the telling out a bit.

“Abbey Road Studios,” he told them after exhaling.

“Oh my god, Freddie, that’s amazing! The boys are going to go crazy. They’re going to absolutely love it,” Brian beamed. Freddie just nodded his head and tapped his cigarette over the ashtray.

“I know, darling. I just hope by doing this I’m not making a huge mistake, what with the way Freddie’s been behaving lately.”

“What do you mean?”

Freddie took another drag and exhaled. “Oh, just typical teenage stuff I suppose…abandoning his schoolwork and all that. I told him I’d jolly well better not get one more damn phone call from the headmaster about him playing truant, if he knows what’s good for him and if he’d like to continue to be able to sit down comfortably at that piano. Hut. Because when I get through with him, his running off to play rock star with Felix and the other boys is going to be the least of his concerns, I tell ya."

“Mmm, well he’s a good kid, Freddie,” Brian said. “They all are really.”

“They are. They are,” Freddie agreed. “But it’s just that Freddie and I have the worst rows sometimes and in the end I just have to tell him, look, you’re only seventeen years old, still a child by law, and as long as you live under my roof in my household, then you’ll obey my rules. That’s it. And when he’s not working on his music, he’s spending time with his girlfriend, Mary. They’ve been together about a year now, I think, and she’s a lovely girl, she really is. Freddie couldn’t do any better than her. But it’s just that that’s all he thinks about now – rock n' roll and girls. And you know, I’ve always raised both of my children to have great self-confidence in whatever they’re doing. I mean, you’ve got to have confidence, sure, but too much of a good thing can turn bad. I mean, we all got our degrees first, you know, and I told him he’d do well to do the same because there are no guarantees in this life, and it’s always sound advice to have something dependable to fall back on. You can't depend on talent alone anymore, now it’s got to be talent plus a very good business sense. Talent isn’t just about being a good musician these days - writing good songs and performing them, it’s about being aware, it’s having a business brain, because that’s a major part of it – to get the music across properly and profit from it. You use all the tricks of the trade and if you believe in yourself, you’ll go all the way. But no, no, he won’t listen to his old man.”

"And what about little Kash, how's she been?" Brian asked.

"Oh God, don't even get me started," Freddie groaned, but he was smiling, and there was a gleam of pride in his eyes. Anyone could see he delighted in his children, and he loved talking about them, even when he thought they were being naughty. "I've already had to have a talk with her as well. Eleven years old and we've already had to have a sit down talk. About boys of course. Coming home from school one afternoon telling me 'Oh, Daddy, I've got a boyfriend'. I said, 'What do you mean a boyfriend? You're what, eight years old?' She said, 'No, Daddy, I'm eleven' And so I said, 'Eleven? Well then you've got seven more years before you can court, or date, or go steady, or _go out_ , or whatever the hell the kids are calling it these days.' I suppose it's time to get the old boxing trophies from the loft dusted off and put them on the mantelpiece," Freddie laughed. "No, but honestly I don't think I have to worry that much about her. She's smart. She's got a good head on her shoulders. And she will at least listen to reason if I tell her something. Besides, she's got her opera and ballet lessons to be getting on with, and those keep her busy and focused, which is good. So...but anyway, this conversation's getting to be a bit heavy, isn't it, darlings? Here let's have that drink!"

Just at that moment, the food and drinks arrived, and right away Freddie, Roger, and John all poured themselves a drink.

"Cheers," Freddie said, and they all clinked glasses, including Brian with his glass of water. They sat there eating, drinking, and laughing, completely losing all track of time, and it was like Freddie hadn't been gone a moment from their sides, like all the tears were never cried. It was such a wonderfully good feeling that Brian didn't even notice how much the others had been having to drink. They'd been drinking with a vengeance, Freddie becoming more animated and talkative with every spearmint schnapps, until at last he'd become so relaxed that he was guffawing like a donkey, not even bothering to hide his teeth anymore. At the best of times Freddie ate like a bird and drank like a fish, which really wasn't a good combination. Now Brian looked and all three of them sat there giggling about nothing. Freddie was flushed and Roger and John were looking quite red in the face as well, and he realized they were all totally sloshed, none more so than Freddie, as he was soon about to discover, who was completely pissed by this point.

"Right, boys, I think you've had quite enough," Brian told them, taking the bottle of spearmint schnapps from Freddie's hand as he poured himself one last drink. "We'd probably best be getting back home now."

"No, Brian, come on! We were just getting started!" Roger protested, but Brian ignored him, and tried to signal to the waiter to bring them the bill, but the waiter was so busy he didn't see him.

"The three of you wait right here. I'm just going to go for the bill," Brian told them, Freddie grabbing back the spearmint schnapps bottle as soon as he'd turned his back. It was while he was at the front desk, handing the lady his card with a polite smile (he and the others could settle accounts later, not that it really mattered), that he heard Freddie saying, "We'll start off with a song called Bohemian Rhapsody", then the unmistakable first notes of Bohemian Rhapsody being played on a piano. This was followed by a slurred, " _Mamaaa!_ ", from Freddie, with Roger coming in a beat later, and John a beat behind him, followed by laughter from all three. Brian hurried with the bill while the song continued:

...*hiccup* just killed a man

Put a gun against his head

Pulled my trigger, now he's dead...

" _Mamaaa!_ " Roger and John came in again laughing.

...*hiccup* life had just begun

But now I've gone and thrown it all away...

_Mamaaa! hahaha_

...*hiccup* ooh

I don't want to die….

There was some drunken mumbling then, Freddie having realized he was singing the wrong verse…

….tomorrow! Carry on, carry on

As if nothing really matters

Too late, my time has come

Sends shivers down my spine

Body's aching all the time

Goodbye everybody, I've got to go-

"That's right, it's time to go!" Brian interrupted the song just at that moment. "Alright, sorry, everybody. Show's over," Brian apologized to the other patrons.

"Boo!" some of them shouted at this announcement.

Brian turned back to Freddie and the others. "What the hell do the three of you exactly think you're doing?"

"We were just singing a song, darling," Freddie answered him, as if that weren't obvious.

"And I specifically told you to stay put and wait for me at the table, didn't I?" Brian scolded, hands on hips. The other three hung their heads, with another hiccup from Freddie. Just then Brian noticed a man standing off to the side. He was an older man, balding, with large glasses, dressed in a tuxedo. He had his back pressed against the wall, trembling with a frightened look on his face, and Brian realized he must have been the piano man who had been playing before Freddie and the others had come and forcibly taken over his piano.

"I am so, so sorry about this," Brian apologized. He took a large bill out of his wallet and handed it to the man. The man took it in a shaking hand and stuffed it in the breast pocket of his tuxedo. Then Brian turned back around to face the others. "Right. Let's go," he said, taking Freddie by the upper arm and pulling him to his feet. But Freddie began struggling against his grasp, and Brian had had enough; he wasn't up for playing any games at the moment.

"Stop, Freddie. Freddie, stop. STOP! STOP! I said stop it, Freddie, that's enough!" And without thinking even about it, Brian reared his hand back and smacked Freddie hard right on the arse three times in quick succession. Well, that certainly got Freddie's attention. He stopped fighting immediately, and his hand flew back reflexively to protect his bottom from any further assault. But then after a moment he smiled coyly at Brian.

"Brian, darling, did you just smack my arse?" he asked.

"Yes, I did. And I'll do it again, properly this time, if you don't settle down and behave," Brian told him. That wiped the smile right off of Freddie's face. "And you're next!" Brian warned Roger, who'd been laughing hysterically up until this point. But that shut him up immediately as well. "Now, I said let's go." But as soon as they turned around to leave, he was blinded by the flash of a dozen or more paparazzi cameras.

"Fuck!" he shouted, shielding his eyes. To be honest, Brian hadn't been _super_ worried about the arse smacking incident, because how many people could have possibly seen? And even if they did talk, who would believe them anyway?

* * *

_..."You'll never believe wha' I seen, mate."_

_"Whacha seen, mate?_

_"Alrigh' so I took me ol' lady down to the Richoux on Sunday, it bein' our anniversary an' all."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Yeah, an' all of a sudden Freddie Mercury hisself starts playin' tha piano an' singin' tha song Bohemian Rhapsody."_

_"Go on then."_

_"Well, then...wait. Wha's tha tall, gangly one's name again?"_

_"Brian?"_

_"Yeah, tha's right, Brian. He says alrigh', sorry, everybody. Tha show's over. An' everybody were like Boo!, right?"_

_"Right."_

_"Then he grabs Freddie by the arm like this 'ere, and smacks him hard three times right on the seat of the trousers. An' then he turns roun' to tha lil blonde one - Roger, ain't it? An' he says to 'im you're next!"_

_"You've been 'aving a nip at the gin again, 'haven't you, Oliver?"_

_"Well, I 'ave, I 'ave, but wha's tha got to do with it?"_

_"Come on, then. We'd best be gettin' back to Fanny. More bins to collect, innit there?"_

_"I swear, George! I seen it with me own two eyes!"..._

* * *

But now Brian found himself surrounded by reporters, who he was certain had caught it all on camera with their photographs. But these weren't just the regular run-of-the-mill reporters from the press; that might have been slightly better. No, these were reporters of the worst kind - the ones that wrote for the sensationalist tabloid newspapers and magazines, and published pure rubbish composed of lies, half-truths, and twisted words. And right away they started in with their questions, shoving their microphones in his face, all the while continuing to take more photographs:

"Are the rumours true, Brian?"

"What rumours?"

"The Frian/Maycury rumours. Are the two of you in a relationship together?"

 _Frian? Maycury?,_ Brian thought. _Good, Lord! He was already having to fight off rumours of Maylor and Breaky every other week as it was now. He didn't know if he could take another._

"Do the two of you practice S&M?"

"S&M? Oh, fuck me!" Brian sighed, exasperated.

"Did you hear that? He just said he wants Freddie to fuck him!"

"No, no. That's not what I meant. I-I…"

"Is this a case of domestic abuse then?"

"What? No! I would never hurt Freddie. He's just very inebriated right now, and I'm trying to get him out of here. And you lot aren't helping!"

Then the reporters turned their attention to Freddie:

"How long have you been together?"

"Brian, Roger, John, and I have been together for 23 years," Freddie slurred with a drunken smile.

"He means together as a band...musically," Brian interjected at once.

"Do you ever have musical foursomes?"

"Well, I mean…" Brian started to say, completely confused by the question.

"Oh, yes, darling! We all do it together in the studio every chance we get," Freddie said. "You see I invented this thing where we all come together and-"

"Harmonize!" Brian finished for him. "Harmonize. That's what he was going to say. Now, look. This whole thing is getting ridiculous. Neither Freddie, Roger, John, or I are in any sort of relationship together, and never have been. This is all just a load of rubbish and we aren't going to be answering any more of your stupid questions, so fuck off!!!"

That just seemed to make the reporters clamour all the more, and Freddie somehow managed to become separated from the others in the crush of bodies. And before Brian knew it, Freddie was already alone outside in front of the restaurant, and the reporters and people asking for autographs kept backing him up ever more dangerously closer to the kerb and the busy street beyond…

"Freddie, you get back here right this instant!" Brian shouted. "One...Two...Don't make me say three, Freddie!"

But Freddie couldn't get back to Brian even if he'd wanted to. He looked truly terrified as he was forced to take another step back, one foot in the road now...

"Freddie, look out!" Brian called to him, but Freddie couldn't hear him. "Move! Move!" he yelled at the reporters, trying to force his way through. But it was too late. As soon as Freddie stepped out into the street, he was struck by a speeding vehicle and thrown to the kerb at the north street corner. "Freddie!" Brian cried. He fought his way to his unconscious friend's side. "Oh, Freddie…," he murmured, staring down at the battered, bruised, bloody body, running a hand over Freddie's hair. "Quick! Somebody call an ambulance!" he shouted.

*******

Brian, Roger, and John sat in a private hospital waiting area for what seemed like hours, until finally a doctor walked in. He came over to them with a sorrowful look on his face.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know how to say this. We did all we could to save Mr. Mercury but, unfortunately, he didn't make it. He passed away," he told them sadly. Then he was in for quite a surprise at the reaction this statement received.

"Well, it's back to the fucking drawing board, isn't it?" Brian said to Roger and John as he stood up. "Honestly, I swear I don't know how I ever let the two of you talk me into this. Come on. Let's go." And the three of them walked out, leaving the doctor standing there at a loss for words, and more confused than he'd ever been in his entire life.

*******

They caught a cab straight to John's house, and Brian hustled Roger and John into the garage and into the time machine, thankfully without anybody noticing.

"I'm not reliving this whole fucking day over again just for something else to go wrong," he said, as he shut the door. "Does anybody remember what time it was right before Freddie got hit by that car?" Roger and John just stared back at him blankly. "No?" Brian gave a sigh. He racked his brain trying to recall the time. Then he remembered he'd caught a glance at one of the reporter's watches, and it had read 5:00. "I'm setting the time back to 5:00," he told Roger and John. "I'll take care of Freddie. The two of you just try to stay out of the way, and not make things any worse than they already are." And he pressed the button…

*******

5:00 ended up being right on the mark. Freddie was outside at the kerb with the reporters. Brian tried an alternate route to get to Freddie this time, but he still couldn't reach him through the crowd. He watched helplessly as Freddie was once again forced to take another step back, one foot in the road…

"Somebody grab him!" he shouted as loud as he could above the noise. Luckily one of the reporters heard him and grabbed the front of Freddie's shirt pulling him to safety just in time. When he finally made it over to Freddie, he hugged him close, not even caring that if they hadn't been before, the Frian/Maycury rumors were definitely confirmed in the minds of the reporters now, but fuck 'em!

"Are you alright?" Brian asked. Freddie just nodded his head, clearly still shaken up. "It's okay. Come on. Let's go." He was able to get Freddie and the others into Freddie's car without any further incidents, and instructed the driver to take them all back to Garden Lodge. Brian breathed a sigh of relief. 

"God, the three of you smell like a fucking brewery!" he joked to break the tension, rolling down the windows to get in some fresh air, while the other three laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You won’t be laughing when you see the headlines tomorrow…,’ Brian said to himself more than anybody else. He could just see it now. A picture of him smacking Freddie’s arse right on the front cover. And instead of their song _Save Me_ , the caption would read: _Spank Me, Spank Me, Spaaank Meee_. And below that: Brian May was spotted smacking bandmate Freddie Mercury’s bum on Sunday at the Richoux in Mayfield…See page 16 for more details!

*******

When they arrived at Garden Lodge, getting the guys inside the house was another adventure altogether, especially in the dark! But he managed to do it somehow. Once they were inside, he got Roger and John sat down in armchairs, and dragged a giggling Freddie over to the sofa.

"Freddie, I'm serious. You better lie your arse down right now. I'm not gonna tell you again, do you understand me? You're gonna sleep it off," Brian told him, tossing him a pillow and a blanket. But Freddie just kept fooling around. "Hey!" Brian said, snapping his fingers at him to get his attention. "You remember what happened back at the restaurant?" he asked, meaning the smacks on the arse. Freddie nodded his head. "You want that to happen again?" Freddie shook his head no. "Then lie down," Brian told him sternly, and this time Freddie obeyed. Then he came and stood in front of Roger and John.

"Could the two of you please watch him for just a moment? I have got to go to the loo," he told them. He got a half-intelligible response out of them, and decided that would have to do. He was absolutely bursting for a piss by now, and even though he knew it was a bad idea leaving two drunk people in charge of another drunk person, he was really out of options. Besides, it would only be for just a few minutes.

It was just as he was finishing up in the restroom, that he heard an explosion, and all the lights went out like a breaker had been tripped. This was followed by the wail of smoke alarms, and a frantic, "Brian!" Brian raced from the bathroom and discovered the commotion was coming from the kitchen. There he found a panicked Roger and John standing near the microwave which was up in flames, screaming. Freddie lay on the floor, smoking curling upwards from his unconscious body. He had clearly received an electrical shock of some sort. Brian himself wasn't even sure what to do first. He spotted a fire extinguisher on a nearby wall, and put the flames out with that first, noticing as he did so, a huge sign like the kind they had in zoos saying: **DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS.** Only this one must have been put up by Phoebe. In big bold letters it read: **DO NOT LET FREDDIE OPERATE THIS MICROWAVE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.** Well, it was too fucking late for that now. Afterwards, he rushed to the phone and rang for an ambulance. 

"Yes, there's been an accident. I need an ambulance and medical personnel sent to 1 Logan Place, Kensington, London right away." 

Then he came over and laid his head on Freddie's chest, listening for a heartbeat, but he couldn't hear anything, so he began CPR…

*******

"What the hell were the three of you doing?" Brian asked as he and Roger and John sat in the same hospital waiting area as last time.

"We were just trying to make a cup of tea," Roger explained. 

Then in walked the same doctor, with that same sorrowful look on his face.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know how to say this. We did all we could to save Mr. Mercury but-"

Brian didn't even wait to hear the rest. "God, you had one job! One job!" He said to Roger and John and they got up from their seats and walked out of the door…

*******

This time Brian set the time back to 6:00 P.M. and got there just after he'd finished telling Freddie off for not wanting to lie down on the sofa.

"You know what? I've changed my mind. Stand up," he said.

"No, no, Brian! I'm lying down! I'm lying down!" Freddie protested, thinking Brian was going to smack his arse again.

"That's not what I meant," Brian said. "I've got to go to the loo, and the three of you are coming with me, where I can keep an eye on you," he told them. So Brian took all three of them with him to the restroom and made them stand directly in front of the door. "Stand right here," he told them. "I want to see your shoes under this doorway. I want to be able to see your feet. I want you all to stay right here outside until I come back out. You understand?" They all gave a more or less affirmative answer, and this new plan seemed to work out quite well. They all stayed in place, and Brian took the fastest piss known to man. When he was finished, he led Roger and John back to the armchairs. Then he looked around and saw Freddie in the kitchen fiddling with that damn microwave again.

"Freddie! Get away from that microwave and get your arse back on that sofa right now!" Brian shouted, chasing after him while Freddie laughed. _Whew. That was close._ Once everyone was back in their rightful places, Brian heaved a great sigh and sat down on the sofa at Freddie's feet. He didn't know how Phoebe did this every day! He definitely deserved more credit than he received. Freddie and the others were already passed out, snoring even, and he himself had never felt more knackered in his entire life. He tried as hard as he could to keep his eyes open, but it was a useless endeavor, and eventually he too fell asleep…

He woke up with a start, reaching a hand out for Freddie, but he wasn't there. He jumped up. "Freddie!" he called, panicked. Just then Freddie appeared upstairs in front of the staircase. "Freddie, what are you doing?!" Brian shouted, rushing to the bottom of the staircase.

"Where's Jim?" Freddie asked, and he sounded so pitiful, so much like a frightened little child, that Brian couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "He's in Ireland visiting his mother, remember?" 

"Where's Phoebe?"

"He's already gone to bed; he isn't feeling well." And indeed Phoebe had. As soon as the deliverymen had gotten the piano in, (Thank God Brian had told him to have the deliverymen double check the cables! One of them had been faulty after all!), he'd taken a large swig from a bottle of cold medicine, fixed himself a hot toddy, and gone straight to bed, where he was currently oblivious of anything except his sweet dreams.

"Where's Liza?" 

"He's on holiday, visiting his family in America I think," Brian told him. "But it's alright. Don't be scared. You're not alone. I'm here and so are Roger and John."

Freddie seemed to digest this information for a moment, and then he started all over again. "Where's Jim?" He took a shaky step towards the staircase.

"No! Just stay there. I'll come up to get you," Brian told him. But Freddie wouldn't listen to reason, and just kept stumbling towards the stairs. Then, just as he was about to step down onto the first step, one of the cats darted in front of him, tripping him up, and Brian watched in horror as he fell, tumbling and crashing all the way to the bottom of the steps.

"Christ! Freddie!" Brian rushed to his side. Freddie was still alive and conscious, though only just barely. Brian once again ran to the phone and rang for an ambulance.

"Yes, there's been an accident. I need an ambulance and medical personnel sent to 1 Logan Place, Kensington, London right away."

Then he darted back to Freddie, taking his hand in his.

"Stay with me, Freddie," he told him. "Stay with me…"

*******

For the third time, Brian, Roger, and John sat in that same hospital waiting area. Everything was quiet, solemn, and Brian had his head in his hands. How many times were they going to have to go through this? How many times was he going to be forced to watch Freddie die right before his eyes? Hadn’t the first time when Freddie died of AIDS been enough? What if they were never able to get Freddie past this day? What if they got stuck in this time warp trap forever? He honestly felt like just giving up, but then he thought to himself – _No._ What if the roles were reversed and it was Freddie trying to save Brian? Freddie would never give up on Brian, never stop trying, so Brian wasn’t going to give up on him either. Even if they had to relive this day a thousand times, ten thousand times, they would do it. They would just take it hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second, if that’s what it took. Even if he had to find a rope and tie Freddie down. He chuckled, reminded of their song _Tie Your Mother Down_ , and he started humming to himself _Tie Freddie Down! Tie Freddie Down!_ That made him feel slightly better, and he just shook his head. _Silly Freddie._

Just then the doctor walked in – the same one as before. “Mr. Mercury’s-”

“Dead. Yeah we know,” Brian interrupted. He turned to Roger and Brian with a sigh. “Come on, guys, let’s go.”

“Um, actually-” the doctor said as Brian and the others started to turn away, “Mr. Mercury’s going to be just fine. We’re keeping him overnight for observation, but that’s just standard protocol when somebody falls and hits their head. We just want to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion or anything. He’s pretty banged up, and he’s certainly going to be sore for a while, but luckily nothing’s broken, and there aren’t any kind of internal injuries or anything like that. And he should be able to go home in the morning.”

“Really?” Brian asked, dragging a sleeve across his eyes. “Can-can we go back and see him?”

“Sure. He’s asleep right now. His blood alcohol level was pretty high when he came in: .16,” the doctor told them. “But there’s nothing to be done for that, other than to just give him some time to sober up. Anyway, just follow me, and we’ll get you on back to see him,” the doctor said, holding the door open for them to pass through…

*******

Brian, Roger, and John were all sitting there by his bedside when Freddie slowly opened his eyes.

"Hey, Freddie," Brian smiled.

"How are you feeling?" John asked.

"Ohhh," Freddie grimaced in pain as he sat up in bed. "As if I've been run over by a car, darling."

"No, that was the other time, mate," Roger put in. Brian elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Ow!"

The doctor walked into the room. "Well, you've taken quite a nasty spill I must say." He took a pen light from his pocket and shined its light up and down into Freddie's eyes. Then he held up a finger. "Look here. Try to follow my finger without moving your head," he instructed, moving his finger slowly from side to side in front of Freddie's face. "Excellent. Now I'm going to ask you a few questions, just to see how you're getting on, alright?" he said to Freddie, putting the pen light away after he'd finished the exam. "What's your name?"

"Oh, darling, you know who I am. I'm Freddie Mercury," Freddie retorted. 

"Good," the doctor said, writing on some papers on his clipboard. "How old are you?"

"Oh, darling, what kind of shit question is that? That's an asshole question to ask anybody."

The doctor just smiled. "Name three things that start with the letter D."

"Diamonds, dresses, and drag queens, darling."

"Four. That's even better," the doctor grinned. "I think he's going to be just fine," he told Brian and the others, and then he left.

"Listen, Freddie," Brian leant towards him. "I've already made all the phone calls." _He'd had to make a lot of phone calls._ "Jim's getting on the first flight back home to come and take care of you."

Freddie started to protest, but Brian shushed him. "He absolutely insisted," he said. "I also called Mary. She really wanted to come, but she's six months pregnant, you know, plus she's got baby Richard and Kashmira to look after, so she thought it would be alright if she sent Freddie in her stead. He's on his way right now to come and sit with you. And Phoebe will be here to pick you up and take you home in the morning."

"Thank you," Freddie told him. Then he looked as if there was something else he wanted to say, but was perhaps a bit too embarrassed to ask.

"What is it?" Brian insisted.

"Well, it's just that...I'm not really used to being alone. And I've never been in hospital before. I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind staying with me until Freddie gets here," he said sheepishly.

"Of course, Freddie!" Brian took his hand. "We aren't going anywhere, and neither are you," he reassured him with a soft smile.

It wasn't long before Little Freddie arrived. "Dad!" he cried as he came into the room. He came and gently wrapped his arms around Freddie's neck, then he pulled back. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm alright. I just drank a bit more than I should have-"

"A bit?!" Brian said.

"Oh, alright! A lot more than I should have. And I just took a little fall down the stairs," Freddie shrugged, as if it were no big deal and he hadn't almost broken his neck in the process. "Don't you worry about me. I'm a tough guy. I'm a trouper," he said. Little Freddie reached over and took his dad's hand in his, making a fist with their intertwined fingers. "You know, I-I'm getting a bit sleepy now," Freddie told them all drowsily.

Brian just happened to be looking at the clock when Freddie said this. The time read: 12:00 A.M. _Midnight_. "It's alright, Freddie. You go ahead and go to sleep," Brian told him. "Everything's going to be just fine now. I promise." So this was the way Freddie fell asleep, holding his son's hand while his friends kept close watch over him nearby. After Freddie had drifted off, Brian and the others got up to leave. But just before opening the door, Brian stopped and turned back.

"Listen, Freddie," he said, speaking to Little Freddie. "I know you and your dad might have trouble getting on sometimes, but I just want you to know he loves you. Very much. He thinks you're the best thing that's ever been. And when he talks about you, oh, his face just lights up." He paused a minute. "I guess what I'm saying is just don't take having him in your life for granted, because I can tell you from experience, things are never predictable, and nothing is certain." Then Brian gave him a warm smile. "Alright, promise me you'll take good care of him."

"I will, Mr. May. I promise," Little Freddie nodded seriously.

"That's a good boy." Brian and the others opened the door then and went out, safe in the knowledge that they had changed the course of events, rewritten history. Freddie Mercury had not died Sunday, November 24, 1991, and from the looks of things, he wasn't going to die _again_ any time soon...

***BONUS* I just had to include this picture I saw of what looks like Brian, John, Roger, & Freddie having a beer drinking contest. Chug! Chug! Chug! 🍺🍺🍺**

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you, this chapter was kind of crazy! But I hope you still enjoyed it all the same.
> 
> P.S. If you want to hear Freddie really singing Drunk Bohemian Rhapsody, follow this YouTube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epPoHy_SNP0
> 
> Also, if you want to read about a time Freddie really did get carried away with his spearmint schnapps, follow this link. It's an excerpt from Peter "Phobe" Freestone's book, Freddie Mercury: An Intimate Memoir By The Man Who Knew Him Best: https://books.google.com/books?id=E2y6f_ReQOsC&pg=PT43&lpg=PT43&dq=freddie+mercury+spearmint+schnapps&source=bl&ots=Djo-od65W1&sig=ACfU3U2JSMAsKwLvQYwBPG-eE_YZXHE9tw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjZ-sev07vmAhUKLKwKHcBuC_MQ6AEwAHoECAoQAw
> 
> *WARNING* there's going to be the parental spanking of a child (not abusive) in the next chapter, so if that's not your thing or if it's going to bother you, then you may not want to read ahead.


	4. It's A Hard Life (A.K.A. Saving Jim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen stamp out smoking to save Freddie and Jim...Mostly feels & fluff (and a spanking) with a couple of dirty jokes thrown in. Freddie wouldn't have been able to resist. 😛

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* there's going to be the parental spanking of a child (not abusive) in this chapter, so if that's not your thing or if it's going to bother you, then you may not want to read ahead.

Brian once more awoke nestled in the cozy, soft comfort of his bed. He sat up and reached for his phone, settling his glasses down onto the bridge of his nose. Again he googled, “Is Freddie Mercury still alive?” The same Wikipedia article from before popped up. Brian hesitated for only a moment, drawing in a nervous breath, then clicked on it. This time under the background information section, it said:

 **Born** Farrokh Bulsara 5 September 1946 (age 71) Stone Town, Sultanate of Zanzibar

Then he doubled checked, triple checked, and there was nothing at all saying “ **Died** ” or “ **Cause of death** ”. He couldn’t believe it, and had to wipe away tears of joy from his eyes. He supposed he should read the rest of the article to catch up on how things had changed since Freddie hadn’t died, but he was far too excited for that at the moment. He closed out of the window for the internet, and pulled up his contacts. He began typing Fre- and Freddie’s name popped up. There were two numbers listed. One was cell and the other was home. He was tempted to dial the cell number straightway, but then remembered if Freddie was still anything like he used to be, he wouldn’t be out of bed yet. So he dialed the home number instead. The line rang and rang, and just when he’d been about to give up and try the cell, someone answered.

“Mercury residence.” Brian could tell from the voice that it was Joe Fanelli. How wonderful that he was still alive (Freddie must have enlightened him about the whole condoms business as well), and had apparently stayed on in Freddie’s service after all this time!

“Hullo, um…this is Brian. It’s great to hear your voice by the way,” he said. “Anyway, I was just wondering if Freddie was there.”

“No, sorry. Phoebe’s already taken him down to the Bohemian Rhapsody set.”

 _So the biopic was still being made? Great!_ , Brain thought to himself. Though he supposed it would have a much happier ending this time.

“Oh, I didn’t think Freddie would have gotten himself out of bed yet,” Brian laughed. But this was met by only silence on the other end, the joke having fallen flat. _Perhaps Freddie was an early riser now?_ "Uh, well, I guess I'd better be getting down there myself. Thanks. It was nice talking to you," Brian said, and then they rang off. Then Brian called Roger and John on a conference call.

"Is it true then? Is he still-" Roger began to ask.

"Yes! We've done it!" Brian interrupted, overjoyed. "I've just called Garden Lodge and Liza answered the phone. Can you believe it? Anyway, he said Phoebe had already taken Freddie down to the set. I guess they're still making the biopic. So, I'm going to head that way now. Shall we meet down there in, oh what do you say? An hour?"

"That sounds great!" Roger said, and John agreed. So Brian got dressed in a hurry, almost going downstairs in mismatching socks and two different types of shoes. He couldn't help it. He was just so thrilled Freddie was alive!

"Good morning!" he said cheerfully to his current wife, Anita, as he came into the kitchen.

"Would you like something for breakfast?" she asked him.

"I'm afraid there's no time. I've really got to get down to the set," Brian told her. "Though I will take some coffee, if you've got any."

"Here you are. I've already filled a vacuum flask (thermos) for you."

"Thank you." Brian took the vacuum flask and turned to walk out the door, but stopped and came back and kissed her on the cheek.

"I just want you to know how much I love you, sweetheart. And I'm so glad to have you in my life. I don't even want to think where I'd be without you here with me."

"Well, I love you too, darling," she smiled. "Are you sure everything's alright?"

"Everything's just fine. Couldn't be any better," Brian reassured her on his way out the door. Then he went out and got into his car and headed down to the set.

*******

They were filming the Garden Lodge scenes in a private house at 14 Ashcombe Avenue in Surbiton, a suburban neighbourhood in south-west London, Surrey. Brian, Roger, and John all arrived at about the same time, and none of them was more excited than John. It seemed he had been the one who had suffered the most after Freddie's death.

"I can't wait to see him!" he beamed, as they opened the door and walked onto the set. Cameramen and crew and producers swarmed all around, but they didn't see Rami and the BoRhap boys or Little Freddie and The Sons of Queen anywhere.

"Excuse me, where's Freddie?" Brian stopped one of the crew to ask.

"He's just this way, Mr. May," the man said as he led them through the house that was serving as the set. They came to the room with the piano that was being made to look like Freddie's study at Garden Lodge. Brian was quite relieved to see Rami and the others through the doorway which was slightly ajar.

"How are you today, Mr. Mercury?" he was saying. Brian pushed the door open further and then froze in his tracks, not at all prepared for the scene that met his eyes. Everyone surrounded a tiny, shrunken figure sat hunched over in a wheelchair. As Brian drew closer, there was no mistaking that the figure was Freddie. But the image before him was so incongruous with the man they'd just left behind in 1991, that it was almost inconceivable that it could possibly be the same person. The skin was stretched paper thin across his bony, gaunt frame. Sunken eyes stared straight ahead, unaware, uncomprehending. The hands were like misshapen claws clutching at the wheelchair's hand rests. He was swallowed up by the sweater Phoebe had dressed him in, and a warm blanket decorated with cats lay across his lap. But the worst thing of all were the nasal cannula, bringing much needed oxygen to assist with his raspy breathing.

"Come on in," Little Freddie greeted them. "Dad's having a good day today," he told them.

 _If this was a good day_ , Brian thought to himself, _what were Freddie's bad days like?_

"Oh, Freddie, what have we done?" Brian murmured, perhaps a bit louder than he had intended. He looked over at Little Freddie who looked pointedly away.

"Hullo, Freddie," John forced a smile as he put his hand over Freddie's. "Well, I think I'm going to get a cup of tea," he excused himself before he lost it in front of everybody.

"Hi, Freddie. How are you feeling?" Brian asked gently. "I love that sweater," he said, indicating Freddie's sweater which had cats on it as well.

"And those socks too, mate," Roger smiled. "Wish I had me a pair of those." Cats there too.

Later, Brian and Roger sat beside each other in their chairs off to the side, watching the filming. John had gone home early claiming he didn't feel well.

"I just wonder what could have possibly happened to Freddie between then and now to cause him to end up like this," Brian said.

"You don't think it could have had anything to do with his fall, do you?" Roger asked.

"No, I don't think so," Brian told him. He put his glasses on and pulled up the Wikipedia article again on his phone. He scanned the article until he came to a section that said **Illness**. "Ah, here we go." He leant over so Roger could see the screen as well. There they read that after Jim had passed away from lung cancer on January 1, 2010, Freddie had fallen into a deep depression, which caused his own health to start deteriorating soon thereafter. Well, at least now they had an answer, and perhaps they could come up with some sort of solution.

*******

After filming had ended for the day, Brian and Roger went over to John's house and met him in the garage. They told him what they'd discovered as far as Freddie's illness was concerned. Then they discussed what could be done. The most obvious thing was to go back in time again, and get Freddie and Jim both to stop smoking, before it was too late. One good thing they remembered was that the first time when Freddie had gotten sick with AIDS and the doctors had told him he might live longer if he stopped all the drinking, drugs, smoking, and wild partying, he'd been able to give up everything just like that; luckily, he'd somehow managed to avoid becoming addicted to his vices. But on the other hand, Freddie had a stubborn streak, and did not like being told what to do, and could get defensive at times. He was a grown-up man and would do as he wanted. Then there was Jim who had stayed addicted to cigarettes the rest of his life, eventually leading him to develop the lung cancer which ultimately resulted in his death. They hadn't had much personal dealings with Jim, and so didn't know how he would react to their suggestion that he stop smoking. When a person had an addiction problem, you could often beg and plead with them until you were blue in the face, but it would do no good, unless the person decided for themselves that they wanted to stop. And it wasn't like Brian, Roger, or John were anything more than casual acquaintances with Jim, so their talking with him about stopping smoking was even less likely to succeed than if they were family members or close friends. Besides, even if they had been, what could they possibly do or say to convince him? _You should stop smoking. It's bad for your health._ But that was just stating the obvious. All smokers already knew that, but continued anyway because they were addicted. It seemed like an all-consuming unbreakable cycle. This would clearly be no easy task.

"It'll be alright. We'll figure out a way to fix this somehow," Brian said, as they came together and hugged each other. They all wiped their eyes as they let go. Then suddenly they were startled by a voice behind them.

"We might have an idea." It was Felix, along Little Freddie, Jimmy, and Robert.

"What are you boys doing here?" Brian asked, surprised. 

"We knew something was up," Jimmy told them. "So, we decided to follow you."

"This isn't the first time you've gone back is it?" Little Freddie asked, stepping forward.

"No," Brian admitted.

"My dad died. He died of AIDS, didn't he?" 

"Yeah, that's right."

"Then squashed by a piano, and run over by a car, and electrocuted by a microwave," Roger added.

"Don't ask," Brian said, seeing the confused look on their faces. "Alcohol was clearly involved." He shot a look at Roger and John. "And now it seems all we've managed to do is just make things worse than they were before," Brian sighed sadly. "I mean he's alive, yes. But what sort of quality of life could he possibly have in his condition? Perhaps we were being selfish in trying to bring Freddie back. If this was the way things were going to turn out, it would have been better to have just left well enough alone. At least he and Jim were together again, and weren't suffering anymore. But this…this seems like a fate worse than death, if you ask me. It just seems cruel. We've got to do something, one way or another. We can't let Freddie go on hurting like this."

The others nodded their agreement.

"But all hope is not lost," Little Freddie told them. "I think I have a plan that could save them both. Would you like to hear it?"

"Well, yes, of course," Brian and the others concurred.

"Alright. You're correct in saying that just talking to them isn't going to get you anywhere. That's not going to work. You've got to hit them where it really hurts."

"Right in the feels as the kids say these days," Robert said.

"Exactly. Which is why this time, you're going to need us to come back with you," Little Freddie told them.

"But you all would have been just children - 14, 13, 12, 11 years old," Brian said. "How's that going to-"

"That's the point, precisely," Little Freddie said. "Why do you think it is that all these charity organizations use children in their commercials, hmm? It's because people sympathize with children more than adults. There is also a high degree of innocence and vulnerability."

"So, what's the plan?" Roger asked.

"The plan is for you, Brian, and John to call my dad and make up some excuse to come over to the house, and bring Felix, Jimmy, and Robert with you. I'll nick some of my dad's or Jim's smokes, and we'll go around the side or back of the house, and then you all will catch us smoking. That'll guilt trip my dad and Jim about them setting a bad example and us following in their footsteps. Monkey see, monkey do, and all that," Little Freddie explained. "And then we'll use Kashmira to really tug on their heartstrings. Leave that part up to me. Kashmira's always been one for dramatics and a good little actress. I have no doubts she'll do just perfectly for what I have in mind. Then for the third and last part, it'll be time for Brian to swoop in with his smoking cessation products and information that he'll just so happen to have brought with him in his car."

Everyone was quiet for a moment, considering this course of action. At last Brian spoke:

"Well, it sounds like quite a tall order. But I believe it's the best thing we've come up with so far. And I think if we all work together and do our part, we just might be able to pull it off," he said, and everyone else was of the same mind as well. So while Little Freddie and The Sons of Queen went off to buy the smoking cessation products - nicotine gum and patches and the like, Brian, Roger, and John did research on tips to stop smoking. They found a website called Help Guide, with an article entitled _How to Quit Smoking._ It had a list about "Coping with cigarette cravings in the moment". They printed off several copies from John's computer, and then met back up in the garage with Little Freddie and the others after they had returned from doing the necessary shopping. They put the items and the printed papers into a duffel bag that they took with them into the time machine, and which John would retrieve and bring with him when he, Brian, and Roger came over to Freddie's house. It was decided that they should go back to a time when Freddie and Jim had been together for a while, that way Jim would already have a strong relationship established with Freddie, as well as Little Freddie and Kash. So they set the date for Saturday, February 7, 1987, when Freddie and Jim had been together nearly two years, and Freddie would soon be filming the video for his single _The Great Pretender._ Brian input all the necessary information into the keypad, and then pressed the button…

*******

They'd set the time for 3 PM and when Little Freddie came to his twelve-year-old self, he was sat at the wooden writing desk in his room, drawing an intricate design on a piece of paper. _Well, no time to lose._ He got up immediately and went in search of Kashmira, who was six at the time. He found her in her room, playing with her dollies.

"Listen, Kash, I need your help with something," he said, kneeling down beside her.

"What is it, Freddie?" she asked, looking up at him.

"We've got to stop Daddy and Papa Jim from smoking," he told her. "We learned in school yesterday that they could get sick with cancer and die from smoking too many cigarettes."

Kashmira immediately teared up. "But I don't want them to get sick and die," she cried.

"Well, don't start crying now! That's why we're going to save them." Little Freddie grabbed a tissue from nearby and dried her eyes.

"How are we going to do that?" Kashmira asked.

"We're going to put on a sort of a play. You know what plays are, right?"

Kashmira nodded. "I love plays."

"I know you do," Little Freddie smiled at her. "You stay right here. I'm going to go get us a couple of props that we'll need." Then, making sure no one was around, he snuck into his father and Jim's room. First he checked the bedroom drawers on his father's side of the bed. _No dice._ But checking Jim's side, he did find a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter. Then he looked in the pockets of one of his father's jackets that was hanging in the dressing area and discovered a pack of the purple Silk Cuts his father favored, and a tiny box of matches. He pocketed both packs of cigarettes, the lighter, and the matches, and then returned to Kash's room.

"Alright, you've got to promise you won't tell anyone what we're doing. Not Daddy, or Papa Jim, or Phoebe, or Liza," Little Freddie said, kneeling down beside her once again.

"I promise," she said.

"Swear it, Kash."

"I swear," she said solemnly. So Little Freddie showed her the cigarettes. She did a dramatic gasp a hand held to her mouth, and Little Freddie had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"Freddie, those are Daddy's and Papa Jim's!"

"I know."

"But you're not supposed to take things that don't belong to you, Freddie," Kashmira scolded.

"You're absolutely right, Kash. And I wouldn't have, but we have to have them for our play," Little Freddie told her. "Here. You keep these." He handed her the pack of his father's purple Silk Cuts. "Now, look, Kash. Felix, Jimmy, and Robert are going to come over here and we're going to go outside into the garden by one of the shelters against the wall by the Koi carp pond, and pretend to smoke these cigarettes of Papa Jim's. Then, after five minutes. That's when the little hand on the clock-"

"I know how to tell time, Freddie," Kashmira, who'd always been advanced for her age, reminded him indignantly.

"Oh, right," Little Freddie said. "Well, after five minutes, I need you to go tell on us to Daddy. I'm sure you'll be good at that," he added drily. "Just tell him Freddie's doing something naughty outside in the garden, okay? Then when we come back inside, it's probably going to look like we're getting into really big trouble, but remember it's just pretend, alright? And when Daddy and the others are telling us off, I want you to stand somewhere where you can see my hands, and watch because I'm going to give you a signal."

"What kind of signal?" Kashmira asked.

"I'll make the OK gesture with my hand like this," Little Freddie showed her so she'd know exactly what he was going to do. "And when you see me make the signal with my hand, you're to run into the loo and start breaking Daddy's cigarettes in half and throwing them into the toilet. Make sure you're crying very loudly so they'll hear you, alright? And when Daddy comes in and asks what you're doing, you're to say, 'I don't want you and Papa Jim to die!' really sad like. Understand? And that's it. Daddy and Papa Jim will have to stop smoking after you tell them that."

"Won't I get into trouble?" Kashmira asked.

"No way!" Little Freddie told her. "You're too cute for that. Besides if you start to get into trouble, I'll tell them it was all my idea and I made you do it. But that's not going to happen, I promise."

Kashmira thought about it for a moment.

"Are you sure this is going to work, Freddie? Are you sure Daddy and Papa Jim will stop smoking after this?'

"I'm sure of it," Little Freddie said.

"Swear it," she told him, just like he'd done to her. She held out a crooked pinky finger towards him.

"Alright, I swear," Little Freddie told her, wrapping his own pinky finger around hers. Then he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

*******

Little Freddie came downstairs and went over to his father who he'd found standing near the kitchen.

"Hey, Daddy?" he asked.

Freddie put his arms around his shoulders. "Yes, darling, what is it?"

"Can I phone Felix, Jimmy, and Robert, and see if they want to come over?"

"Let's see here. Have you done your chores, finished your homework, and tidied your room?" His father asked him.

"Uh...yeah," Little Freddie answered, hoping it was the truth. Though if he knew his twelve-year-old self like he thought he did, it most assuredly wasn't!

"Well then I suppose so, darling. Only make sure it's alright with their parents first, hmm?"

"Alright, cool. Thanks," Little Freddie said. Just then the phone rang and Phoebe answered it. 

"It's Brian on the line for you," he said, holding the phone out to Freddie. 

"Just a moment, darling," Freddie said to Little Freddie, and then took the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Freddie. It's Brian."

"Hello, Brian, darling. How are you?"

"Just great. Um, is Jim there?"

"Yes, yes. He's here. Just finished mowing the lawn, and now he's sat in there on the sofa with a beer watching rugby. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Brian said, trying to sound casual. "Roger, John, and I just wanted to know if we could come over and talk to you about something."

"Well, what is it, darling?"

"Oh, just some new ideas we've come up with and been bouncing around a bit," Brian told him, trying to keep things as vague as possible. "And would it be alright if we brought the boys with us too? Somehow all of us ended up looking after them today."

"Of course, darling. That's perfectly fine. In fact, Freddie was just asking me if they could come over."

"Okay, well, we'll see you in about an hour then."

"Alright, darling. I'll see you all then," Freddie said, and then they rang off. "That was Brian," he said to Little Freddie. "He, Roger, and John will be here in about an hour and they're bringing Felix, Jimmy, and Robert with them."

 _Excellent!_ , Little Freddie thought to himself. _So far everything was going exactly according to plan_.

*******

"Have you got them?" Felix asked straightway as soon as he and the others arrived an hour later.

"Yeah, I've got them," Little Freddie told him. "Come on." They walked over to where Kashmira was sat on the stairs. "Alright, Kash. We're going outside now," Little Freddie told her. "You know what to do." She gave a decisive nod. So Little Freddie led the others outside into the garden and over to one of the shelters against the wall by the Koi carp pond, just where he told Kashmira they'd be.

"God, I'm dying for a smoke," Felix said. "What have you got?"

"I found some Marlboro Reds of Jim's, and some of my dad's Purple Silk Cuts, but I left those with Kashmira," Freddie told him.

"Well, that's alright. Silk Cuts, mate? That shit's weak. Give me one of the Marlboros," Felix said. So they each took one the Marlboros from the pack. 

"How's about a light?" Felix asked, a cigarette held between his lips.

"Um, well, do you want a lighter or matches?" 

"Lighter," Felix said. So Little Freddie got out the lighter, but found his twelve-year-old hands weren't as adept at getting the cigarettes lit. He flicked the lighter several times to no avail. Finally, Felix took it from his hands and the flame sparked up on the first try. He lit his cigarette first and then those of the others. Then he took a long, slow, deep drag, and began smoking with the skill of the forty-five-year-old man he was inside. "Your old man's gonna kill us when he finds out," he said, exhaling a stream of smoke. He glanced over at Little Freddie, who was puffing quite lightly and urgently on his cigarette, never leaving it in his mouth for long, before snatching it out with his fingertips.

"You smoke just like a fuckin' schoolgirl, mate," he teased.

"Fuck off!" Little Freddie told him good naturedly. "So I guess everything went alright then?" he asked the others.

"Yeah, except for Felix here almost blowing our cover," Jimmy grumped, while Felix burst out laughing, then started coughing.

"What happened?" Little Freddie asked.

"So we're going down the road. And we see this blonde, um...ample-chested lady walking on the pavement. And Felix says, 'My God, will you look at the tits on her' then before anyone can stop him, he rolls down the window and he says-"

"And I says, 'Hey, Baby! Nice tits!'" Felix cut in. "And then my dad smacks me in the back of my head and he says 'You're supposed to be fourteen remember?' And I says, 'Oh, right.'" And they all died laughing...

*******

Back inside, Kashmira was taking her job seriously, following Little Freddie's orders to the letter. As soon as five minutes were up, she went dutifully and got her father, just as she'd been instructed. She came and tugged on Freddie’s hand where he and Jim stood talking with Brian, Roger, and John.

“Daddy!”

“What is it, baby?” he asked, picking her up in his arms.

“Freddie’s being naughty.”

“Well, he’s always being naughty, isn’t it?” he asked, resting his forehead against hers. “What’s he done now?” He was expecting her to say something like _he’s picking his nose_ , or _he’s spitting_ , or _he’s saying naughty words_.

“He’s smoking ciggies.”

“He’s what?”

“He’s smoking ciggies.”

Freddie set her down immediately, and he and the others went over to the nearest window with a full view of the garden.

“I’ll be damned.” Sure enough there the four of them were, outside in the garden smoking cigarettes just like Kashmira had said. 

"What are they doing?! Smoking?!" Roger exclaimed, pretending to be outraged.

“Stay here,” Freddie told the others…

It was just as Felix had finished his story about the buxom blonde and they were all still laughing, that they watched as a hand reached down and took one of the Marlboros from the pack that Little Freddie was holding. They all looked up, startled, to see his father standing there. They hadn’t even heard him coming.

“Could you give me a light?” he asked Felix, who still had the lighter. This time it was Felix who couldn’t get the lighter to spark, with his trembling hands. After the third attempt, Freddie took it from him and lit his own cigarette. Then he inhaled and blew it out slowly, while they stood there staring at him nervously.

*******

"What are you doing with a cigarette, Felix?! I can't believe you're smoking at your age! Honestly?! Are you stupid?!" Roger shouted, smacking Felix in the back of the head.

"Ouch!" Felix glared at him, rubbing the back of his head. He knew they were supposed to be making this realistic, but it seemed his dad was enjoying this a bit too much, getting a bit slap-happy in his opinion.

"We're very disappointed in you, boys. Very disappointed," Brian told them, sitting on the arm of Freddie's sofa.

“Right. Before we commence with the beatings-” Freddie said, making the four boys, who were now on trial as they sat on the sofa in the front sitting room, gulp. “I want to know who’s these are, and where they got them from.” The pack of Marlboros, matches, and lighter lay spread out on the coffee table before them. _Exhibit A_. All the adults turned to look at Felix.

“Well, don’t look at me, just ‘cause I’m the oldest,” he told them. “They’re not mine. They’re Freddie’s.”

“Freddie’s,” the other two boys agreed. Little Freddie cowered down into the couch cushions.

“Freddie, come here at once,” his father told him sternly, beckoning him with his finger.

“Daddy-” Little Freddie protested.

“I told you to come here,” Freddie told him sharply. So Little Freddie got up and came and stood in front of his father.

“Where did you get these from?” his father asked him, pointing to the objects on the table.

"I don't know."

"Now you're going to lie to me and tell me you don't know where you got these from?"

“They’re yours and Papa Jim’s,” Little Freddie muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“They’re yours and Papa Jim’s,” Little Freddie repeated, a bit more clearly this time.

“So, not only were you smoking cigarettes, but you stole them as well?”

Little Freddie just shrugged his shoulders. "I guess."

"What do you mean _I guess_? Do they belong to you?"

"No."

"Did you have permission to take them?"

"No."

"Then you stole them," Freddie told him. "That's what stealing is, taking things that don't belong to you without permission. And don't try and tell me that you don't know that, because I know for a fact that you do. I've certainly taught you better than that."

Little Freddie just stood there, hanging his head.

“What do you have to say for yourself, young man?”

“I was just borrowing them. I was going to put them back. It was just a little cigarette...I don’t know why I should get into trouble. You and Papa Jim smoke all the time!” Freddie pointed out.

“There are a great many things that Papa Jim and I do that you’re not allowed to because you’re still a child.”

“Like what?” Little Freddie retorted.

“Like-” _Drinking. Swearing. Having sex._ _Hmm…not good examples, Freddie._ “Like buying a house, or having a job, or driving a car,” Freddie told him.

“You can't drive!” Little Freddie shot back. A hushed silence fell over the room at this remark.

"Don't ever talk back to me like that again," Freddie told him, deep warning in his voice. "Do you understand?"

Little Freddie thought now would be a good time to bring on the tears. "We just wanted to be cool like you, and Papa Jim, and Roger, and John," he cried.

"Well, smoking isn't _cool,_ Freddie. It's bad for the health. Cigarettes kill people, give them cancer."

"So?"

" _So?_ You want to end up with cancer, is that it? Or dead? Or a shrunken, shriveled up old man, trapped in a wheelchair and dependent on oxygen to breathe, just because he thought it was _cool_ to smoke when he was younger?"

"Do YOU?" Little Freddie sobbed. _And what could Freddie possibly say to that?_ So instead he just hugged little Freddie to him and rubbed his back, while Little Freddie sobbed against him. That's when Little Freddie discretely flashed Kashmira the OK gesture with his hand.

A few moments later, they all heard loud sobbing coming from the loo. Freddie and Jim ran into the room, only to find Kashmira crying as she stood over the toilet, breaking all of Freddie's Purple Silk Cuts in half, and throwing them into the bowl below.

"Kashmira!" Freddie said to her sternly. "What-"

"I don't want you and Papa Jim to die!" she cried. _And what could Freddie possibly say to that either?_ Freddie sighed quietly to himself. _Fuck._

"Come here, baby," he told her, picking her up in his arms.

"Please don't smoke anymore, Daddy," she sobbed against his shoulder. "I don’t want you to die. I want you to live. I want you to still be around and be my Daddy."

"No, baby. Daddy isn't going to smoke anymore now, alright? I promise," Freddie told her, giving her a kiss. She leaned back placing her hands on his chest.

"Swear it?" she asked him, wiping her tears.

"I swear," Freddie told her, giving her another kiss.

Kashmira lifted her eyes to look at Jim.

"Me either, sweetheart," Jim told her, crumpling up a pack of cigarettes from his pocket as if they disgusted him, and tossing them into the dustbin.

*******

"Right. That's it. We've got to stop," Freddie said with a wave of his arm, as he, Jim, Roger, Brian, and John sat around the dining room table. 

"It's not just affecting us now. It's affecting our children as well," John put in. The others all expressed their agreement. 

"So what do we do then? How do we go about this thing, other than the obvious of just stopping?" Roger asked.

"Actually, believe it or not, I have just the thing outside in my car," Brian told them. "Wait right here. I'll go and fetch it." Brian returned with the duffel bag full of the nicotine patches and gum.

"And you just so happened to have all of this with you in the car, did you, darling?" Freddie asked him.

"Well, yeah," Brian told him. "My dad's a smoker as you all know, so I grew up seeing what a terrible vice it really is. I'm always ready to talk to anyone about stopping smoking when the opportunity arises, and if they're willing to listen." He handed out the printed pages with tips on smoking cessation they'd also brought with them in the duffel bag. "Here you all are." 

Freddie scanned the list. "Find an oral substitute," he read. "Keep other things around to pop in your mouth when cravings hit." He grinned suggestively at Jim. "That shouldn't be a problem should it, darling?"

"Someone's mind's in the gutter," Brian sighed. "Try mints, carrot or celery sticks, gum, or sunflower seeds-"

"Or suck-" Freddie cut in.

"On a drinking straw," Brian finished, shooting Freddie a withering look as he laughed.

"Keep your mind busy," Roger read next. "Read a book-"

"That's a waste of time, I tell ya," Freddie interrupted.

"-or magazine," Roger continued. "Listen to some music you love, do a crossword or Sudoku puzzle, or play a board game."

"Scrabble," they all said together at once.

"Keep your hands busy," Freddie read next. "Squeeze balls- Ooh, it's getting quite nice this list," he laughed.

"Stress balls, Freddie," Brian told him.

"Well, of course, darling. What other kinds of balls did you think I meant?" Freddie asked, feigning innocence.

"-pencils, or paper clips as substitutes to satisfy the need for tactile stimulation," John finished.

Freddie skimmed a little further ahead down the list, until one item in particular caught his eye. "Try to relax – Do something that calms you down, such as taking a warm bath- Ohhh, a bubble bath in the Jacuzzi! That sounds quite nice, doesn't it?" He said to the others. Then he turned to Jim, elbowing him with an evocative grin. "We'll have to try that one out a little bit later on, won't we, darling?"...

*******

"And it's not just our children," Brian said, after they'd finished reading the other tips on the list. "Thousands of children around the world look up to us as sort of their musical idols. What kind of message are we sending to them when they see us smoking?" He turned to Freddie. "I know you don't like doing sort of message songs, preaching at people and telling them what to do or whatever, but I've always enjoyed the thought of Queen doing an anti-smoking campaign one day. I suppose it's not really the thing done in rock n' roll, but since when have we ever conformed to the norm or gone along with what everyone else is doing? And we could use our music to really make a difference, just like we did at Live Aid." He looked around at the others. "Plus, it would be good promotion for our music. I mean, picture it. We could have a video with _Another One Bites The Dust_ playing in the background. And every time you hear 'another one bites dust' or 'and another one's gone' you could show people crushing out their cigarettes. And then I could come forward and say, 'Hello, I'm Brian May, and it's time for smoking to bite the dust' or something like that. Or we could have a video with _Keep Yourself Alive_ playing, and Freddie could say, "Smoking kills such and such a number of people every year. So keep yourself alive and join in the campaign against smoking'. Or we might make a video with _I Want To Break Free_ , and Roger and John could say 'Hello, I'm Roger Taylor. And I'm John Deacon. And we're here to tell you that's it's time to break free of smoking', you know?"

"Wow, you've really thought about this a lot haven't you, darling?" Freddie said to him.

"Yeah, I have," Brian answered him.

"Well, let's keep it on the table darling," Freddie told him. "Perhaps Miami could work something out for us at our next meeting."

*******

After that, it seemed like it was time for everybody to head back home. But they had to think of a way to bring Little Freddie with them somehow. They couldn't very well leave him here behind!

"Daddy, can Freddie come to the sleepover tonight at our house?" Robert asked John.

"Yes, please!" The other boys joined in, begging their fathers.

"Hut. After getting caught smoking stolen cigarettes? I jolly well think not!" Freddie said. Little Freddie did his best to look downhearted and dejected that he was the only one who wasn't getting to go to the sleepover. _Shit!_ _He was in a bind here,_ he thought. _If his father didn't let him go with them, he'd have to try and sneak out like he'd done so many times when he'd been a teenager. And what if he got caught? Then they'd really be in a mess!_

"I'm not trying to interfere or anything here, Freddie," Brian said. "But I think they've all learned their lesson. And I don't think they're going to do anything like that ever again. Right boys?"

"Right," Felix agreed.

"And we're sorry," Jimmy said.

"Yeah, we're real sorry," Robert repeated. And they all hung their heads in contrition.

"They're just boys being boys, mate. We've all got to learn through our mistakes," Roger offered.

"And I promise I'll keep a close eye on them, Freddie. And make sure they don't get up to any more mischief," John told him.

Freddie thought about it for a moment. "Alright. He can go," he said at last. The boys gave each other congratulatory smiles. "But first I need to have a little talk with him for a moment." _Uh-oh._ The smiles instantly faded from their faces. _That certainly didn't bode well for Little Freddie...or his behind._ "He'll meet you outside in the car."

"Your old man's totally gonna beat your arse, mate," Felix laughed in Little Freddie's ear. Little Freddie gave him a dirty look.

"Right, boys. Let's go," Brian said, as he ushered them out. Everyone cast sympathetic looks Little Freddie's way. _Sorry, mate._ Except Felix, who made spanking motions at Little Freddie when nobody else was looking, and then closed the front door shut behind him. _Bastard._

Freddie came over and took his son by the hand. "Kashmira, stay downstairs," he said.

"Is Freddie going to get a spanking?" she asked, before Jim, Phoebe, and Joe enticed her away to the kitchen. Freddie hadn't answered the question. _Shit._

"Daddy, please-" Little Freddie pleaded, and it wasn't all just acting. Freddie was never abusive towards either one of his children by any means, however, it was his philosophy that a spanking done properly need not often be repeated. So that's why Little Freddie was not looking forward to reliving one.

They went into Little Freddie's room, and Freddie closed the door firmly behind them. Then he immediately came and smacked Little Freddie hard on the bottom three times. Not exactly a full spanking as such - Freddie generally went by the rule of thumb of one smack per year of age. But it was enough to get Little Freddie's attention. And it most surely did. The sting was quite shocking. Little Freddie had forgotten how much this hurt - the spanking and even more than that, his father's disappointment. He let the tears come into his eyes. Freddie hugged him close, and began rubbing his back, and Little Freddie sobbed against his father's chest for effect.

"Right. You listen here, Freddie Mercury," Freddie scolded, calling Little Freddie by his full name, which he rarely did because it sounded absurd to own his ears, it being his name as well. "I know it's been quite a long while, but don't think just because you're a great big boy now, twelve years old, that you've gotten too big to go over my knee for a good, hard spanking, because, honey, that's exactly what's going to happen if I ever catch you stealing or smoking another cigarette ever again. Along with being grounded with no allowance, no dessert, no games, no sweets, no television, and an early bedtime for a month. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Daddy," Little Freddie cried, as his father continued to hold him close.

"You do not steal for any reason or under any circumstances, and you know it. You know better. I've certainly raised you better than that. Do you know what happens to people who steal?"

"They go to jail," Little Freddie sobbed.

"That's right. They go to jail. Is that what you want to happen to you, hmm? You want a policeman to arrest you and take you to jail?"

"No, Daddy, no!" Little Freddie bawled.

"Then are you going to steal anymore?"

"No, Daddy, I'm never going to steal anything ever again. I swear, I swear," Little Freddie blubbered.

"I ought to phone your mummy and tell her what you've done as well."

"No, no, no!" Little Freddie begged. A spanking from his father was no walk in the park, but he'd much rather get a spanking from him than from his mother any day. Freddie only ever spanked with the palm of his open hand on a fully clothed bottom, but his mother, Mary, had a hairbrush with a wicked sting that she had no qualms whatsoever about using on Little Freddie's bare arse to keep him in line, and she always gave twice as many smacks. He was surprised the name Mason Pearson wasn't permanently branded across his arse by now.

"I won't this time," Freddie told him. "But next time I won't have any choice. I can't keep secrets from your mummy like that. You understand?"

Little Freddie nodded his head.

"And as far as smoking goes, I don’t want to see you with another cigarette ever again, Freddie. Am I understood? I know I haven't exactly been setting a good example for you, but even so, you knew you weren't supposed to be smoking. It’s a nasty habit, and bad for the health as I said before. It's sending a bad message to all the other little boys and girls out there, and that's why I, and Papa Jim, and Roger, and John aren't going to do it anymore. I love you, Freddie, more than you'll ever know. It's my job as your father to keep you safe, and I don't want you to make the same mistakes I have made." He took Little Freddie's face in his hands. "Don't ever do that again, alright?" he asked. Little Freddie nodded his head, and Freddie gave him a kiss. "Alright, darling. Enough of this, hmm? Come here and wash your face." 

"There now, that's better isn't it, darling?" Freddie asked him after he'd washed his face and calmed down a bit. "You'd best hurry and get all your things together. Brian and the others will be waiting for you in the car. And when we go back downstairs, I want you to apologize to Papa Jim, alright?

When they came downstairs, Jim and Kashmira were sat on the sitting room sofa, drawing a picture together on the coffee table. Little Freddie came up to Jim.

"I'm sorry for nicking your cigarettes, Papa Jim," Little Freddie told him.

"Oh, it's alright, Freddie. I didn't need them anyway," Jim said, ever calm and always willing to forgive.

"Alright, darling. Behave yourself. Be good, mind your manners, and do as Brian and the others tell you. I'll see you tomorrow," Freddie told him, giving him one last hug and kiss.

Right away Kashmira began crying because she wanted to go as well. Freddie knelt down in front of her.

"Don't cry, darling, you don't want to be around all those loud, nasty boys," he told her. "I tell you what, you stay here and you, I, and Papa Jim will play dress up and have a tea party with all your dollies and, if you're extra good, we may even paint our nails, how does that sound?"

"The cats too?" Kashmira asked.

"Well of course the cats too! We can't very well leave them out now can we?"

"Yay!" Kashmira cheered.

Jim shot Freddie a questioning look. _Did he just say you, I, AND Papa Jim will play dress up and paint our nails?_

*******

When Little Freddie arrived at the car, Felix opened the door for him.

"How'd it go, mate? Did you get your arse beat then?" he grinned.

"Fuck off," Little Freddie told him as he slid into the car, and Felix giggled. "Let's get the fuck out of here. I'm completely knackered," he said, rolling down the car window so the cool breeze could blow across his face. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. 

"Yeah, yeah. That's what a good arse-whoopin' will do for you, mate. Put you right to sleep," Felix teased, then he continued on chattering with the others. "I personally think I deserve an Oscar for my performance back there, just sayin'." Little Freddie had almost drifted off, listening to the drone of their voices, when he heard Felix say, "Could you stop here and bring me back a pint? I'm completely parched." They were approaching a pub only a short distance ahead.

"Sorry, Felix. You're underaged," Roger told him with a smug smile. "And I just wouldn't feel right buying booze for a fourteen-year-old."

"Oh, come on, Dad! That's not fair!" 

Little Freddie closed his eyes again, a grin on his face, listening to Felix bitch as they drove along, headed back towards John's garage, where the time machine awaited, ready to take them back to 2017, hopefully for the last time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The list of tips on smoking cessation really does exist. I didn't make them up myself. They can be found here if you are interested: https://www.helpguide.org/articles/addictions/how-to-quit-smoking.htm
> 
> *BONUS: I'm sure everybody has already seen this before, but it's so freakin' cute, who can resist watching it again? *Relationship goals*  
> Freddie Mercury and Jim Hutton in bathroom (FULL VERSION): https://youtu.be/Gi5HKfZd3OE


	5. Bohemian Rhapsody (The Movie)

Freddie awoke with a gasp. He'd just had the most frightening dream of his life. He sat up in bed, head in his hands, still reeling from the terror. Jim felt him moving around and awoke himself with a sort of startled snort.

"Oh, Freddie, did I wake you again with my snoring? I'm so sorry. Here, I'll go and sleep in The Pink Room, so you can get some rest." Jim began gathering up his pillow and a blanket, but Freddie stopped him.

"No, no, it's not that, darling. Though you were snoring like a freight train just now," Freddie told him. "I've just had the most terrible dream of my life. It was absolutely dreadful!"

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Jim asked, concern in his voice. Freddie was actually trembling.

"I dreamt I kept dying in all of these ghastly ways. First I died of AIDS. Then I was squashed by a piano, and run over by a car, and electrocuted by a microwave. And Brian and Roger and John they kept trying to save me. And then you weren't there and...and…" Freddie knew he must sound like a blathering idiot carrying on like this, but Jim, bless him, didn't even bat an eye. He just put his arm around Freddie's shoulders.

"Well, it's alright now, Freddie. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. Especially not after thirty-two years together," Jim smiled. Then they cuddled up close, hugging each other tight until they both managed to drift off again somehow, dozing lightly.

The next morning, Phoebe brought Freddie his tea at precisely 9 AM, just as he always requested. A little while later, Freddie came downstairs to the kitchen in one of his many beautiful kimono dressing robes, and sat down at the breakfast table.

"I'm feeling less than sparkling this morning," Freddie told Phoebe and Joe.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, Freddie," Phoebe said, setting down a plate of Freddie's usual breakfast - two slices of toast with homemade marmalade and jam. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, dear. Just a bad dream. Didn't get much sleep, I'm afraid," Freddie said.

"Would you like to go over your agenda for the day?" Joe asked.

"Oh, I suppose so, darling," Freddie sighed.

"Alright, it looks like you've got a band meeting at 12-"

"Band meeting?!" Freddie almost spat out his tea. "What band meeting?!" How could something that important completely slip his mind?

"Not to worry, Freddie," Phoebe told him with a smile, mopping up a bit of the spilt tea. "I've already got the beef strogonoff prepared and ready to go for lunch for the meeting."

Freddie just put his hands in his head and groaned.

*******

But when the driver arrived two hours later, Freddie reluctantly got into the car. He was feeling out of sorts ever since having that strange dream, and he definitely wasn't feeling up to having this meeting today. 

As soon as he arrived at the studio and walked into the conference room, Brian, Roger, and John became immediately concerned about his being unwell.

"Freddie, are you alright?!"

"Would you like some chicken soup? Water biscuits (crackers)? Ginger ale? Orange juice?" John offered.

"Should I phone for a doctor?" Roger asked.

"Bit chilly in here," Brian said, wrapping a throw blanket around Freddie's shoulders. "Do you feel like you've got a fever?" He placed his hand on Freddie's forehead. "Here, let me measure your temperature." And he pulled a thermometer out of one of his pockets.

"What? No! Would the three of you please calm down?" Freddie shrugged the blanket of his shoulders. "I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night. That's all. I had this nasty dream."

"Oh," the three of them said, clearly relieved. Freddie honestly didn't know what had gotten into them lately. The slightest sneeze or twitch on his behalf and they went bonkers, worrying themselves to death about his health and well-being.

"What did you dream?" Brian asked.

"Oh, it was awful!" Freddie exclaimed dramatically, and proceeded to tell them in vivid detail about all the things that had happened in his dream. Afterwards the three of them sat there in stunned silence.

"Wow! That was quite a dream, Freddie," Brian said at last.

"What else do you remember? Er...I mean about your dream?" Roger asked.

"Nothing, nothing. The rest of it's all just muddled up in my mind," Freddie told them with a wave of his hand.

"Hmmm. Well, I'm glad you're alright, Freddie," Brian told him. He looked around at the others. "Shall we get the meeting started then?"

"Honestly, darling, you're going to have to remind me what this whole thing is about it," Freddie told him. "This dream thing has got me so rattled that I've completely forgotten. Though I suppose that's understandable when you get to be our age, isn't it?" he joked.

"John, would you like to start us off?" Brian asked.

"Right. Yes," John said, gathering together some papers. "The annual Queen anti-smoking campaign seems to have done really well this year. There was a 40% increase in inquiries into stopping smoking. I also have here the latest numbers from The Mercury Phoenix Trust if anyone would like to have a look at them." Freddie and the others had established The Mercury Phoenix Trust back in 1992 after feeling strangely and inexplicably drawn to do something about the AIDS crisis.

"No, no, darling. You're better at numbers than I am. But I'm glad to see everything's doing so well," Freddie said.

"There's also been a lot of interest from the fans in a Queen Christmas album. So that's something I think we should think about as we get further along in the year, closer to the holiday season," Roger contributed. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

"Ooh, I know!" exclaimed Freddie excitedly. "We could all be on the cover wearing Santa hats and Christmas cat sweaters and each of us holding a kitten with a bow around its neck!"

"Well…" Brian looked over at Roger who was mouthing NO! NO! Absolutely not! "...let's keep that in mind, Freddie. It's still a long way until December so we've got plenty of time to come up with all sorts of ideas," he said. "Right. Now that we've got business out of the way. I do have a little surprise for you all," he told them. "There's somebody I'd like to introduce to you. Graham?" he called.

Through the door walked a sturdy-built, middle aged man with short graying hair cropped close to the scalp and stubble on his face. He had a kind face and came and shook them all warmly by the hand.

"This is Graham King. He's a film producer. He'd be interested in making a film about the band," Brian informed them.

Freddie's eyes instantly lit up. "I've always had visions of actually having a film made of my life story, one day, which I would have a key part in. I might not play the lead myself. My dears, the things I’ve done in my lifetime... it’ll be totally triple X-rated, I’ll tell you!"

"Er...I was thinking of maybe keeping it PG-13," Graham suggested. "You know so we could reach the max amount of fans. How many Queen fans are there worldwide? 20 million? There will be 150 million people going to see this film. I want this to be a film parents bring their kids to see. Because there are a lot of kids out there who know about Queen music, but they don't know about Freddie and Queen, the real Freddie and Queen."

Freddie seemed delighted, but the others were a bit apprehensive and reluctant at first.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, darlings!" Freddie said at last. "I've heard Elton's thinking of doing a film about himself as well. Going to call it _Rocketman_ or something or other. So why shouldn't we have a go?"

"Listen," Graham told them. "If you don't get involved now, somebody else will do it, whether you like it or not, and then you won't have any say or input into what goes into the movie."

That more than anything else seemed to convince them.

"Well, what would we call it?" Roger inquired.

"I was thinking _Bohemian Rhapsody_ since that's the song you're best known for," Graham said. "And I've already been considering several actors for your roles." He handed them each a stack of photos of actors he considered potential candidates. Brian, Roger, and John already knew who they wanted of course and straightway picked out Gwilym, Ben, and Joe. Then they all waited on baited breath to see what Freddie would do. When they'd come back the last time, Brian and the others had all agreed to come back a bit earlier than before, so they could be witness to Freddie playing his part in the making of the Bohemian Rhapsody film.

Freddie flicked quickly through the photos, discarding them all left and right, until he came to Rami's picture. Then he paused.

"Who's this?" he asked. Graham craned his neck to have a look.

"Oh, that's Rami Malek. He currently stars in an American drama thriller called _Mr. Robot."_

" _Mr. Robot_?" Freddie asked questioningly. He sat there surveying the photo a little while longer. "Hmm. Yes. I like him. Let's get him in," Freddie said, handing the photo to Graham.

"Well, you should probably pick out two or three, just in case he doesn't-" 

"These two then," Freddie said, selecting two randomly from the stack without even looking. But the others could tell he had his heart set on Rami, and they all smiled secretly at each other.

"Right. I just have one thing to say," Freddie told them all, and a hushed silence fell over the room. "I don't get out of bed before nine and I never leave the house before eleven, so all I'm saying is don't look for me at the set before noon, darlings." They all laughed.

"I'm sure we can find a way to work around that, Freddie," Graham said with a smile.

*******

So Graham got in contact with Rami and the others and asked them to fly to L.A. to meet in person, as he was considering them for the roles as the members of Queen in the film. They were all eager of course and agreed to come straightway. When he met with each of them, he was truly blown away, especially by Rami. He thought to himself, _Whoa! They really are Queen!_ And it wasn't just acting; it seemed to be something that just came natural to them, like it was in their DNA. Even so, he asked them to submit an audition, which Rami did within the first 24 hours, recording it on his iPhone. Then he sent them all to London, to the famous Abbey Road Studios to do some pre-recording (singing four songs, dancing, and a mock press conference), to be sent for viewing by Freddie and the others. After the footage had been reviewed, the final step would be for Rami and the others to meet with Freddie, Brian, Roger, and John for an interview and final approval…

"How the hell is this damn thing supposed to work?!" Roger repeatedly hammered the ENTER button on the keyboard to his computer.

"Well I don't think that's helping," Brian said. They were trying without success to download Rami's pre-recording footage from Abby Studios. They'd been able to view all of the other boys' recordings without any problems whatsoever. But they still hadn't been able to watch Rami's, and he would be here any minute!

"Here, let me have a look, darlings," Freddie offered, coming over, but was immediately refused.

"NO!" the other three shouted at once.

"The damn thing's likely to go up in flames," Roger told him.

Freddie sat back down on the couch stiffly, with his arms crossed over his chest, pouting and acting supremely hurt.

"Oh, Fred-die," John called to him in a sing-song voice. He waved his phone back and forth tantalizingly. "Have you seen this new cat video somebody just posted on YouTube?"

"Hut. That's not going to work this time, darling. Trying to bribe me with cat- Oh! Did you see that?! He's playing _Bohemian Rhapsody_ on the piano with his little paws!" Freddie fawned over the video someone had put together of a tiny kitten made to look like it was playing _Bohemian_ _Rhapsody_ on a miniature piano, with a long _meooow!_ for the _Mamaaa!_ part. With Freddie sufficiently distracted, at least for a little while, John returned to help the others. Suddenly there was a knock on the door of Roger's flat. Brian went to the door, and it was of course Rami.

"Hello, Rami." Brian smiled and extended his hand. "It's nice to meet you." 

"Mr. May. It is such an honor," Rami replied, shaking his hand, and hoping his palms weren't too sweaty. 

"Well, come in. Come in." Brian stepped back and opened the door for Rami to pass through, then he shut the door behind them. And there they all were - Roger, John, and Freddie. Rami couldn't believe this was actually happening to him. He felt breathless as he said hello and came and shook all of their hands. Then he stood there waiting nervously.

"I apologize," Brian was saying, leaning over Roger at the computer again. "We haven't been able to watch your pre-recording video yet. We couldn't get it to download properly."

"May I?" Rami asked, indicating the computer.

"Yes, of course. Please," Roger said. Rami came over and pressed one button and the video immediately began downloading and was soon ready to play. Then it occurred to Rami that he was going to have to watch them watching his audition video. Freddie sensed his uneasiness.

"Come and sit beside me, darling," he told him, patting the sofa beside him. Rami made his way over and sat down. He noticed Freddie had a mug in his hand that had a picture of a cat with the caption "Don't stop me-ow!" and thought he must be having his afternoon tea, but was slightly surprised when Freddie filled the cup with Stolichnaya vodka from a bottle on a little end table that stood beside the sofa. "Would you like some, darling?" Freddie asked.

"Oh, no, thank you," Rami declined politely. Then they all sat there watching the video, Freddie cracking jokes to get Rami to relax a bit. But Freddie pretended it was he who had been the nervous one. "Oh, thank God you laughed at all my jokes. I tell you, I was so nervous before, darling, but now you’ve put me totally at ease," he said, with a grin, slapping Rami's knee playfully.

Next it was decided Rami should do a mock interview as Freddie, with the others. Straightway they started firing off questions that Rami was having to answer as Freddie. Finally, there came a moment where they asked him the question, "Who do you trust the most, Freddie?" _Oh my God_ , Rami thought to himself. _How do I answer this?_ He stood there staring between Brian, Roger, and John. Which one should he pick? Then suddenly it came to him.

"Well, that would have to be Mary. Mary's the person that I trust the most."

"Oh, yeah, yeah. That makes sense," Brian, Roger, and John nodded.

 _Thank God!_ , Rami thought. _At least he got that one right!_ Then he turned to look at Freddie.

"Good answer, darling," Freddie told him with a wink.

*******

The first day of filming was to be the Live Aid scene. Freddie, Roger, Brian, John, Little Freddie & The Sons of Queen, and Phoebe, all came down to the set. The recreation of the venue was identical, so perfect, just as it had been in 1985 - completely seamless right down to the posters on the wall and the peeling paint and bits of plaster peeling from the ceiling. And this was just the backstage area! When they came to the stage section, the dimensions of the stage and the placement of all the equipment and instruments were exactly as they had been that day at Wembley stadium. They were in a bit of shock - everything brought back so vividly that it sent shivers up their spines, and they felt the hair on the backs of their necks standing up.

This was the first time they were seeing the boys in costume and make-up, full shtick as it were, and when Brian's wife Anita saw them all and how great they looked, she couldn't help but burst into tears at the memories, and rushed forward to hug them all.

Rami and the others were feeling understandably nervous, this being a pinnacle part of the performance they had to pull off. Trial by fire. 

"Well, do you have any advice for us?" Joe asked out of nerves.

"Yes, actually," Freddie told him. "My advice to you all is don't fuck this up, darlings." He said it so seriously, watching the blood drain from their faces, but then he began to laugh.

"Honestly, Freddie. If they weren't nervous before…," Brian scolded playfully. Then he turned to the boys. "My advice is don't forget, we are rock stars and with that comes a bit of ego. So just relax a little, and have fun. Find a little bit of rock star in yourselves."

Later, just before it was time for the boys to run out on stage for filming, Freddie, Roger, John, and Brian stood there watching, fairly glowing with a sort of paternal pride. Brian recorded the moment on his cell phone.

"Go kill 'em boys. Kill 'em. Kill 'em," he smiled encouragingly.

Rami and the boys worked late into the night, performing the twenty minute scene again and again, until everything was perfect; every beat, every gesture, every breath, every movement. Brian even leant Gwilym his actual Fender Telecaster he had used at Live Aid, just to make it that much more authentic. And at the end, proud couldn't even begin to describe how Freddie, Roger, Brian, and John felt.

*******

The filming seemed to fly by after that. Freddie proved to be a hard taskmaster. As was already well known, he was a perfectionist and no stranger to 16 hour days. He expected everybody to give it their all - 110% at all times. But the boys seemed to soar, excelling and exceeding even Freddie's hard-nosed expectations, which was really saying something. At times watching them, Freddie, Brian, Roger, and John all began to believe it was really themselves they saw up there on the monitors, even suspending their own disbelief. And with Freddie by his side to teach him and guide him this time, Rami put out a performance to rival all others. They grew close, becoming almost like a family, sharing special moments together none of them would ever forget. Like Gwilym getting to sit down and play guitar with Brian. And Freddie coming to Rami's defense once when he got into huge trouble with health and safety and the stunt people, for an unplanned, spur of the moment crowd surfing.

"No," Freddie told them all, placing his hand on Rami's shoulder. "That was good. It stays in." All they could do after that was nod their heads in agreement.

There were also other things that were making this time better than the last ones. One of them being that this time, Freddie was letting them use the actual Garden Lodge for the needed scenes. And also a lot more cameos. Little Freddie & The Sons of Queen were seen briefly waiting backstage at Live Aid, pretending to be one of the acts waiting to go on. And if you looked closely Freddie, Roger, Brian, and John could be seen sitting inconspicuously in the Live Aid audience. Even Jim got to appear, as one of the men cleaning up after Freddie's party scene. And Phoebe, who didn't appear in the original movie, got his chance this time, visible standing in the wings in one of the Queen concert scenes.

And Freddie got on the phone to Elton asking if Taron Egerton, who was playing Elton in his biopic _Rocketman_ , could appear as Elton in one of the Live Aid shots. Taron immediately agreed, and Elton, thinking it only fair, asked Rami to appear as Freddie in one of the _Rocketman_ scenes. Perhaps Elton could be in a restaurant with his mother, and Freddie could be at another table and they wave at each other! Rami agreed as well, and went on to appear as Freddie in the movie, tying the two movies together - something that had been talked about, but hadn't happened the first time.

Finally, one Sunday morning, Graham King sat down with Freddie, Roger, Brian, and John, and watched the final take of the film. He was a nervous wreck, never taking his eyes off them as he watched them watching the film. At the end, Freddie turned to look at him, and Graham held his breath.

"I absolutely love it, darling," Freddie told him with a smile, and Graham knew that he'd worked hard and accomplished what he set out to do, and now his job was done.

*******

At last, the day for the world premiere of the film, at the SSE Arena in Wembley, London arrived.

"We are ALL going, and we are ALL going to enjoy this!" Brian told Freddie and John, who were not looking forward to all the interviews and photo-ops they were sure to have to endure. "Did I tell you it's going to be a purple carpet, Freddie? Not a red one we're going to be walking down, hmm?" But even that didn't do much good.

"Well, at least I'll have Jim and Mary with me," Freddie said. Brian gave him a quizzical look.

"I thought Mary said she wasn't going."...

As soon as Freddie heard this, he went immediately to see Mary.

“What’s all this rubbish about you not going?" he asked.

"You and Jim should go," Mary replied, not looking up. "Nobody likes a third-wheel, Freddie."

"Right. If you're not going, then neither am I," Freddie told her.

"Oh, Freddie, don't be ridiculous now. You can't just not go to the premiere of your own film!" Mary said.

"This film is as much yours as it is mine," Freddie told her. "I wouldn't have gotten anywhere, if you hadn't been there for me. After all you've been through and done for me, it's about time you got some recognition for it, hmm?" Freddie told her, putting a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I don't know," she said dismissively, with a wave of her hand. 

But Freddie took her face in his hands. "That song I wrote for you all those years ago, _Love of My Life?_ How does it go? Do you remember?" He began to sing to her softly. "...When I grow older I will be there at your side to remind you how I still love you…" There were tears in Mary's eyes now. "How dare you say you're some third wheel, Mary Austin," Freddie scolded. "You're no such thing. You're the love of my life - and NOTHING will ever change that. You understand? Nothing could ever change the fact that we believe in each other. And love each other - now and for always," he told her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Now, you'd best hurry and get dressed," he told her. "We've got a premiere to go to, darling."

Mary smiled, and wiped the tears away from her eyes with a laugh…

So that's how Freddie went to the world premiere, dressed in a tasteful light blue suit, with Mary on his left arm, and Jim walking beside him on the right. Brian was accompanied by his wife Anita of course, Roger with Sarina, and John with Veronica.

As far as interviews went, Freddie was quite pleased with himself when he got away with a simple, "I hope you enjoy our movie, and the show must go on!"

*******

Some time later it came to be known that Rami had been nominated for an Oscar for Actor In A Leading Role.

"Oh, shit! You mean we have to go through all that crap again?" Freddie joked.

"Actually, we're meant to open the Oscars. They want us to play We Will Rock You and We Are The Champions," Brian told Freddie and the others.

True to form, Queen practiced for days beforehand, and when the day came, they put on a show, the likes of which the Oscars had never seen before.

As far as interviews and photo-ops went, Freddie had tried his very best to keep them to the bare minimum of what was absolutely necessary. As far as he was concerned, this was Rami's night, and he was content to stand back and watch him shine.

Freddie, Roger, Brian, and John were sitting only a few rows back, and rose to their feet when it was announced Rami had won the Oscar.

Brian, Roger, and John all gave each other a knowing look. This had definitely been a surreal experience to say the least, but their reward was the gleam in Freddie's eye as he watched the proceedings.

Rami gave an emotional, heart-felt acceptance speech, the most beautiful and touching part coming at the end when he told Lucy Boynton, who had played the role of Mary, and with whom Rami had fallen in love during the making of the film, "Lucy Boynton, you're the heart of this film. You're beyond immensely talented. You have captured my heart."

"Well done, darling," Freddie said with a smile, clapping along with the rest of the audience. "Well done."

**The End**

***BONUS* Here's a picture I found that somebody made, showing what Freddie might look like if he were alive today. This is the best one in my personal opinion. There are other pics like this out there, but some of them are downright terrifying lol :)**

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for all the kind comments, kudos, and support. It means a lot to me and I really appreciate it. I hope you've enjoyed it. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I would really appreciate no criticism (constructive or otherwise), or negativity in the comments section, please. This is just my hobby that I do for fun. Thank you! :)
> 
> Copyright © May 20, 2020 DonnieTheFu All Rights Reserved
> 
> ***DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any semblance between original characters and real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The author in no way represents the companies, corporations, or brands mentioned in this work. The likeness of historical/famous figures have been used fictitiously; the author does not speak for or represent these people. All opinions expressed in this work are the author’s, or fictional.***


End file.
